Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek
by MarkKB
Summary: Lilo and Stitch has to face their greatest challenge yet; not from the newly activated experiment 628, but from a far worse enemy. Will they be able to save themselves and Earth from a fate worse than death?
1. The Dream

I'm completely re-writing this story because at the moment I feel that I can't integrate the events of The Battle of Worf 359 into this story. However, this story will still follow the same basic plotline as the original, so you will find a lot of familiarities.

So read, review and enjoy Chapter One of Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek! 

**The Dream**

Thunderclap.  
The sky was pouring, as it had never poured before. Well, at least to the 4-year-old girl in the back seat of the 1997 Ford Laser Lynx.  
Another one. The girl hid beneath her blanket.  
In the front passenger seat was a young woman of about thirty, who was half-listening to Elvis Presley's "Hound Dog", which was playing on the radio. She was staring intently out the window. As though she was expecting something.  
"Hon, what is it?"  
The driver, a 34-year-old American, had stopped the car.  
"I don't know, Jess, I just have a bad feeling…"  
"You had the dream again, didn't you?"  
Kalani nodded.  
"You know _Star Trek_ isn't real."  
"I know…. But I just…"  
Another thunderclap. The young girl in the back screamed.  
"Look, we're late, Jess, and she's scared to death. We should be getting on…"  
Jess looked at his wife and smiled. Most of the time she knew best, at least if she wasn't watching Janeway and Tuvok… and they should really get home before their 17-year-old daughter did…

The four-year-old in the back was shivering under her blanket. _As long as I'm in here_, she thought, _the sparks of the almighty can't get to me_.  
She calmed down enough to look outside the passenger window.  
Another thunderclap. She screamed again, but this time not because of the lighting streaking the sky.  
A woman stood on the cliff above, momentarily illuminated by the lightning, intently looking down on the road below, and for a single moment, their eyes interlocked, and the girl saw in them hatred as she had never seen before.  
Another flash of lightning and she disappeared.  
The girl shook her head. Clearly, she was imagining things. And overreacting, too.  
But then, she saw the woman again – this time on the side of the road.  
But she was soon swallowed by darkness.

Jess hummed along to "Old Schoolyard" by Cat Stevens. Yes, he did remember those days, and when he first met Kalani. The day they first met… it was magical. Those were the days…  
As if the radio read his mind, it changed to "Those Were The Days, My Friend".  
But suddenly, a flash of lightning illuminated someone on the side of the road. Jess saw 'it' – he wasn't sure if it was a girl or a boy – ploughing through the 30 mph winds and the wall of rain as though it was a slight breeze on a summer's day.  
But he blinked, and the person was gone.

The girl was looking out of the window. No use, everything was black as charcoal. Except for the occasional lightning, all was dark. The headlights probed into nothingness.  
Suddenly, Kalani shouted "Jess!" and the car swerved and narrowly missed a felled tree. Unfortunately, what it didn't miss was the cliff face. The front of the car collided with the wall of rock at 20kph and scrunched up like that bendy part in those bendy straws. The girl even didn't have time to scream.

* * *

When she woke up, she was on a stretcher. She moved her head slightly to the left. The car was nothing but a crumpled up mess of metal.  
She looked to the right. There were two other beds with lumps of something under the sheet. Bodies. Dead bodies.  
Beside the beds, a woman was chatting to two of the paramedics. Her vision was blurred, but she though she looked like something out of _Star Trek: Voyager_. She did catch snips of their conversation.  
"What are you, the…?"  
"Precisely."  
She then pressed her hand against both of the guys' necks.  
"This way, ma'am."  
One of the paramedics (Dr C. Sanders) led the woman to her stretcher.  
She stared at her. She looked like a mutant zombie.  
Then, she pressed her hand against the girl's neck. Intense pain filled her body. She screamed.  
And Lilo Pelikai woke up, her body soaked in sweat. 


	2. Breakfast At The Pelikai Household

**Breakfast At The Pelikai Household**

"What's the matter?"  
She must have screamed out loud, for Nani, her older sister by about a gazillion years, came rushing in the room.  
"Nothing. Just a nightmare."  
It wasn't nothing, but she didn't want Nani to know that.  
"It's the one about your parents, isn't it?"  
Lilo nodded. Why was it always _her_ parents? Why couldn't it be Nani's parents for a change?  
Nani, who was an accomplished mind-reader, corrected herself.  
"Our parents."  
Lilo looked to the left. Stitch was still snoring. She smiled. Stitch could sleep through a nuclear warhead explosion. He could _survive_ through a nuclear warhead explosion, and if anyone found him, he'd be still snoozing away, until Nani said the magic word.  
Nani came up and whispered in Stitch's ear.  
"Breakfast."  
Immediately, Stitch's ears popped up.  
"Breakfast?"  
In a flash, he zoomed down the lift and into the kitchen.  
Nani smiled.  
"Well, I'd better get down there before Stitch wreaks the place."  
She left the room down the lift, leaving Lilo alone to dwell on her thoughts.

Lilo tried to gather her thoughts together. The dream was slipping away as fast as water down a waterfall – the more she tried remembering it, the more she seamed to forget… there was a girl, a car crash, and a strange woman who wanted someone dead… wanted _her_ dead…  
She shook her head. It was no use worrying about dreams…  
She walked up to her makeshift mirror and stared at it. An 8-year-old Hawaiian girl, brown eyes, midnight-black hair, wearing a sea-green nightgown, stared back at her.  
The dreams she had been having were getting stranger and stranger – but then again, almost everything was strange about Lilo Pelikai, from her obsession with vampires, zombies and tikis, to her 'hobby' of relocating illegal genetic experiments so that they can help society instead of destroy it. Even her 'dog', Stitch, was a genetic experiment, number 626 to be precise.  
She turned her thoughts to the first time she told Nani about the dreams. Nani had said she was having those dreams because she couldn't let go… whatever that meant.  
_I'll worry about it after hula practice_, she thought.

* * *

When Lilo arrived in the kitchen, Stitch was already gobbling down his 23rd bowl of cornflakes.  
"Look who finally decided to get up!"  
Nani was toasting a sandwich.  
Lilo glanced around the kitchen. Wendy Pleakly the one-eyed wonder was having bacon and eggs. After what happened with Poxy (Experiment 222), Pleakly was keeping well away from the cornflakes.  
Dr Jumba Jookiba, mad scientist extraordinaire, was working on something under a microscope.  
"What's that?"  
Jumba looked up. He suddenly got very tense.  
"Is… is nothing!"  
Jumba wasn't acting like himself, she could tell.  
"Then you wouldn't mind me taking a look…"  
"No! I mean… it's very boring, just cure for pesky Earth virus. Little girl would not be being interested."  
"But I'm very interested in micro-bacterial organisms."  
Lilo had no idea what micro-bacterial organisms were, she had heard that word on a Discovery Channel special. But she had to see what Jumba was hiding.  
Instead of answering, Jumba picked up his microscope and walked off to his room.  
Jumba was acting strange… then again, Jumba _was_ strange, being a mad alien scientist charged with illegal genetic experimentation, who let loose on the world Experiment 626.

* * *

"See ya!"  
Lilo waved good-bye to Nani as she and Stitch left for hula practice.  
"Bye! And don't forget to help Jumba clean out the attic!"  
Lilo had almost forgotten that promise.  
"I won't! "Nani stood waving as Lilo and Stitch walked down the lane hand-in-hand._  
Now that they're gone, maybe I can actually get some sleep._ She'd been up all night working the night shift at the Birds of Paradise Hotel.  
She heaped herself on the couch. Maybe she'd be able to catch a few hours sleep before her 12:00pm Saturday shift started.  
She was to have no such luck. Jumba thudded into the room, arguing with Pleakly, who came out a second later.  
"…but last time we used your plasma oven, the food had a slight radiation…"  
"…'twas only plasma leak, it is being fixed…"  
"…oh, no, I'm not running that risk again…"  
"QUIET!"  
Nani was now on her feet, although she didn't remember getting up. She glanced from Jumba's confused face to Pleakly's rather scared one. All she wanted was some peace and quiet, was that hard enough?  
"Pleakly, Jumba, I'm trying to get some sleep here, so what ever it is, take it outside!"  
Jumba took one look at Nani and walked out of the door, with Pleakly close behind.  
She lay back down. _Calm down_, she thought to herself. _Big, deep breaths_…  
Soon she was asleep, and dreaming… 


	3. Nani's Dream

**To Xoverguy:** It's reasonably the same, and no, Jumba is not working on Borg nanoprobes, what he is working on will become obvious in the following chapters.**  
**

**Nani's Dream**

"See ya!"A 17-year-old teen was waving goodbye to her gaggle of friends.  
"See ya, Nani," they chorused back.As they drove off, Nani continued up the lane that led to her house. She hoped her parents were back from picking up Lilo from Kokaua Kindergarten. She had something really important to show them.  
But happiness soon turned to dismay as she saw only the buggy parked in the driveway. She decided to go inside and watch a video for a bit until they arrived.  
She rummaged through the video pile. _Do we own nothing but _Star Trek_ videos_?  
She picked out one that looked remotely interesting, labelled "_Star Trek: Voyager_ 3x26 & 4x01: Scorpion", and put it in the VCR, which clicked and clunked as it read the magnetic strip inside.  
"We are the Borg. Existence as you know it is over. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Resistance is…"  
Within the hour she had fallen asleep. And her parents still hadn't come home.

* * *

"BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!"  
Nani woke up to the alarm clock. It read 8:00am.  
She rushed to the window. The car was still not back.  
By now she was concerned, not only for her parents, but for her little sister.  
She picked up the phone and dialled the kindergarten's phone number.  
"Hello, Mrs Winfield here. How may I help you?"  
"Did my parents pick up Lilo? Lilo Pelikai."  
"Yes, they left at about 4:00pm. Why?"  
The phone started beeping.  
"Hang on, call waiting."  
She pressed the hash key.  
"Hello, this is the Pelikai residence, Nani speaking."  
"Yes, this is Honolulu Emergency Hospital."  
Why would they be calling? They're about three islands away. Unless…  
"We regret to inform you that Jess and Kalani Pelikai have died in a front-on collision with about 300 tons of a two-meter-high wall of rock."  
What? Nani tried to fight back tears.  
"They died on impact. There was nothing we could do."  
"How's Lilo?"  
"She's fighting for her life here. There wasn't an adequate medical facility on the island, so we had to get her to the nearest one – which was in Honolulu. Don't worry, she'll be fine."  
"Nani?"  
Nani heard in the background a very weak voice.  
"And it looks like she's awake."  
After what sounded like several footsteps and shifting about, Nani heard Lilo's voice.  
"Nani, I'm scared."  
Tears were brimming Nani's eyes, as she tried to speak words of comfort to her little sister.  
"Don't worry, Lilo, everything's going to be all right."  
More shifting, and the paramedic spoke again.  
"I recommend you board a flight over here immediately. All expenses paid, of cause."  
What, was he mad? Of cause she would board the next flight to Honolulu. It didn't matter that Lilo had been a royal pain of a sister. All that mattered was that she was with her every moment of her life.

* * *

"Beep beep beep-beep."  
"Huh?"  
Nani rolled over into reality, and hit the ground with a thud. She glanced at the clock while rubbing her back.  
"Oww my... 12:00!"  
She rushed out the door and almost knocked Jumba as he plodded up the stairs. 


	4. Cleaning Up The Attic

**Cleaning Up The Attic**

Lilo walked through the door, with Stitch trailing.  
"Nani! Jumba! Pleakly! We're home!"  
Jumba's voice called back.  
"Older girl is still being at work, and Pleakly is going to food market…"  
"You mean the mall?"  
"Is what I say!"  
Lilo turned towards Stitch.  
"What's wrong with you? You haven't been yourself today."  
"Nothing, Lilo."

626 had been having nightmares too… nightmares about a terrible force that would come and steal Lilo's soul. He couldn't let that happen, but he couldn't tell Lilo, either – he didn't want to make her own nightmares worse.

* * *

Stitch was 'sorting' through a box of books labelled "Science and Technology." Only his variation of 'sorting' was throwing each book over his shoulder. And, unfortunately, his aim was so inaccurate that each book landed flat on Jumba's head.  
"Naga."  
"Naga."  
"Oooo… naga."  
"Would genius experiment please stop throwing rectangular projectiles at my cranium!"  
"Soka."  
"What's this?"  
Lilo had come across a box, filled to almost overflowing with Vertical Helical Scan tape cassettes, which had been sitting in the same place for over four years. On the opposite side to Lilo, Stitch could only just make out through the dust "Kalani's Videos".  
_Where have I heard that name before?_  
Stitch had to think for a bit before he remembered.  
For a brief moment, one day last year when Experiment 355 was swapping their brains, he had seen thousands of images rush through his mind – images of Lilo's life. He had seen her earlier life, which had been full of laughter and joyfulness… until the fatal accident that had killed her parents. He had seen her after that stoop into loneliness, with only her sister to comfort her. He had seen her so-called 'friends' turn on her, torture her with never-ending pranks, teasing, ect. Then he had seen her wish upon a 'star', or rather, his own get-away ride. He had seen himself through her eyes – not as a monster, but a friend.  
And when Stitch realised who Kalani was, an emptiness filled him, tearing him apart from the inside… He almost wanted to cry…  
_Knock it off_, he told himself. _You are Experiment 626. These memories are not yours._  
But, before he could stop himself, he started hugging Lilo.  
_No harm will come to you_, he silently promised her.  
And he could almost hear Lilo answer back. 

Lilo felt herself blush slightly. 626, _the_ Experiment 626, was giving her a hug? For what reason?  
_Because we're 'Ohana_.  
That had to be the only reason. Otherwise, _the_ Experiment 626 would not just go around hugging people (and it was pretty rare for him to do so, anyway.)  
"Bata itsa naga."  
"It is being times like this that is making me glad to be an evil genius. Now, little girl and 626 are to be getting back to work now."  
Stitch removed himself from Lilo and went back to 'sorting' the books.  
She wondered what was going on in Stitch's mind.  
But he knew what was going on in hers.

"Naga."  
"Naga."  
"Oooo… naga."  
"626, if I am telling you once, I am telling you more than once: stop with the throwing of combination paper-cardboard reading material!"  
"Soka."  
Lilo was digging around in "Jumba's Old Stuff", which included several pictures of his ex-wife, plans for twenty different experiments, ranging from 029 to 626, several technologies including a hand-held communicator, a EM-shield that retracts into a ring and a 3D hologram of the Turo system, and various photos of Jumba's previous partners, including Hamsterville, Jotinar, Experiment 625 (unbelievably), Haknor, Tessifer, Jacques Gerbilwheel (no relation to Hamsterville), and some guy named Andrew P. Lipsky. ("Mad scientist, is being on brink of world conquest…" "Isn't that Professor Demens?")  
She came across a small titanium container.  
"What's in this?"  
She noticed a change come over Jumba as he saw what she was holding. He started gripping the vase he was holding tighter, and started shaking slightly.  
"'Tis… 'tis nothing! Now, would little girl please be handing to me!"  
"Why?"  
"Just give it to me!"  
"Catch, Stitch!"  
She threw it at (or rather, in the general direction of) Stitch.  
But, instead of catching it, Stitch fell headfirst into a box.  
"Oww."  
Seconds before hitting the ground, the box stopped. And started floating. Towards Jumba.  
He grabbed it and deactivated the device he was using to levitate it.  
"Ah, magnetic gravimetric field simulator, works every time! Now I will be putting small container where you two cannot be putting nose into it..."  
He plodded down the steps.


	5. Suspicious Minds

**Suspicious Minds**

"GO TO YOUR ROOM!"  
"I'M ALREADY IN MY ROOM!  
Lilo and Nani were having their regular pre-bed yelling match.  
A slam told Nani that Lilo had closed the door. And a high-pitched squeal told her that she was screaming into her pillow.  
Good, now she could get some rest…

Lilo's thoughts of How To Get Back Nani soon melted away. By the time Stitch came in they were gone completely, replaced by What Is Jumba Hiding?  
_It has to be something valuable, or something that he doesn't want us to see_…  
A thousand scenarios rushed through her head, each as impossible as the next. Jumba's a secret agent. Jumba's a spy. Jumba's created an experiment…  
_I'll deal with it in the morning._

Experiment 626 was also thinking about what Jumba was hiding. He had managed to take a peak through the keyhole – all was blue, 'cept for three black numbers. Something-2-8. No matter how hard he tried, he could not remember the first number.  
A scene suddenly flashed through his brain.  
_Lilo was yelling at someone… Jumba… If only he could hear what was being said…_  
"_It is he who is having screw loose if he thinks I am going to tell you that I made a 627!"_  
"_YOU MADE A 627!"_  
Of cause! It had to be an experiment pod!  
No… he had been threatening Pleakly with "experiment for which to poke someone's (Pleakly's) giant eye out!" And Pleakly wasn't being threatened… or was he? If he was, he was doing a good job at hiding it.  
And it might be something else – Jumba was a renowned scientist, it was probably just one of his inventions, and he was worrying over nothing.  
Then why was Jumba acting so much not like himself?

* * *

In the large, two-hundred-year-old hula hall, six 8-year-old girls and five 20-year-old women were dancing on stage. 

"Ea mai ke alii kia manu  
Ua wehi i ka hulu o ka mamo  
Ka pua nani ao Hawaii  
O Kalakaua he inoa!"

"He Inoa No Kalani Kalakaua — kulele!"

"Excellent – and this time you didn't slip!"  
The hula teacher stood up, clapping.   
"On what?"  
Cue obnoxious, stuck-up, spoiled brat, Myrtle Edmonds.  
"Never mind. I'd like to thank our volunteers for coming over, especially after what happened _last_ time."  
Last time they had dared to come near the hula hall was two years ago.  
"Can we hurry up now? I have to brush my hair about a thousand times, and I've no time to waste."  
Not only was Myrtle obnoxious, stuck up and spoiled, she was self-centered, caring only for things within 100 nanometres of her skin.  
"Not like Weirdlo would know anything about style."  
Her second, third and forth favourite things, besides herself, was taunting, teasing, and gloating in front of, Lilo.  
Lilo ignored her. She liked the hula woman, and didn't want to scare them away (for two years) like last time, and anyway, she was too used to Myrtle's remarks to care.  
And she had better things to do than worrying about her looks, or Myrtle for that matter. Like trying to figure out what Jumba was hiding.  
And for that, she'd need Stitch.

"Experiment 626!"  
Stitch woke up from his nap. Lilo was going out of the hula hall. Strange, she didn't usually call him by his number.  
And Myrtle knew that.  
"What's this experiment 626? Some kind of secret weapon? The key to Area 51?"  
"And I thought Lilo was weird," one of Myrtle's posse whispered to the others.  
"Oh, no… er… it's the codename for… my dog! Yeah, that's it."  
"Sure, like I'm supposed to believe that! So, is it alien technology?"  
Myrtle's posse was still whispering behind her back.  
"Let's vote on which is the least weird and stick with her."  
"I vote for Lilo!"  
Just then, Jumba came plodding down the footpath.  
"Uncle Jumba! Er… what a surprise to see you here!"  
Now, imagine your average obese person. Put a yellow shirt with green leaves and baggy cargo pants on him. Add purple-and-pinkish skin. Multiply eyes by four and you'd get a basic idea of what Jumba looked like.  
"Er… can I change my vote to Myrtle?"  
Myrtle smirked.  
"I see weirdness runs in the family."  
Jumba, of cause, didn't take this lightly.  
"Is small mean Earth child calling Jumba Jookiba, evil scientist, weird!"  
"Er, yeah, duh. Have you looked in the mirror lately?"  
"Only this mor… never mind, this fruitless conversation is diverting me from reason for being here."  
He cleared his throat.  
"I am coming to be giving 626 physical, so to speak, just being normal tests, you know, brain probe, thermal scan, normal things."  
"OK, we are definitely sticking with Myrtle."  
Lilo brought her hand to her face. Oh, how humiliating.  
But her humiliation was soon broken, by Myrtle, surprisingly.  
"What on Earth is 626!"  
"626 is being blue-furred exoplasmic detection dog in front of mean girl with spectacles."  
"So, she was right!"  
"Duh."  
"Well… it wasn't that obvious."  
"Nyeah!"  
"Come on, girls!"  
Lilo watched as Myrtle strutted down the street, nose to the air. She also noticed that her 'posse' was keeping a slightly larger distance from her than usual.


	6. A New Experiment

**To dragonfanman:** Glad you like it so far...

* * *

**A New Experiment**

"What is Jumba hiding?"  
Lilo was typing away at her new computer, trying to figure out what was happening.  
Without Stitch (who was still at Jumba's physical), she couldn't get him to help her figure it out. Unless…  
She picked up her walkie-talkie.  
"Black Cat to Mutant Dog. Black Cat to Mutant Dog."  
The walkie-talkie sat there, making not a sound.  
"I repeat, Black Cat to Mutant Dog."  
It sparked into life.  
"Mutant Dog here."  
Stitch had answered.  
"What's up, MD?"  
The person that replied, however, was not 'Mutant Dog'.  
"What is being up is little girl is interrupting mind probe, now please no more interruptions!"  
The walkie-talkie went dead.  
_OK, that went nowhere…_  
She resumed typing on the computer.  
"Let's see… Jumba's backup files…"  
She double-clicked the folder.  
"Experiment database… Experiment 001. Primary function…"

* * *

"Experiment 228. Primary function, liquidation of…"  
The computer suddenly beeped.  
"Incoming communication from: Jumba Jookiba."  
Lilo sighed.  
"OK, put it up."  
Jumba appeared on the screen, with a rather large computer screen behind him.  
"Physical is being finished! I am being pleased to report that 626 is being in, how you say, ship-shape."  
"Thanks. Now…"  
"I will be sending him up now. Jumba out."  
The screen returned to the experiment files, and the computer resumed reading as though nothing had happened.  
"… enemy fortresses, weaponry…"  
"Pause RB."  
The computer silenced itself.  
Since Jumba hadn't revealed anything, she'd just have to scout playback for clues.  
"Playback timestamp 15035423072004."  
The computer started playing back Jumba's communication.  
"… _is, how you say, ship-shape."_  
"_Thanks…_  
"Wait, rewind for 2 seconds and play at quarter speed."  
No matter how funny Jumba's accent sounded like, it sounded even funnier when played at quarter speed.  
"…_hoow yoou saay…"_  
"Pause there!"  
Jumba's head seamed slightly elongated in that frame, like a watermelon. But Lilo's focus was, not on Jumba, but on the computer screen behind him.  
"Zoom in 300 and clarify."  
As the computer cleaned up the image, Lilo gasped.  
"These are plans for a new experiment!"  
A clunk near the lift told Lilo that Stitch had arrived and had collapsed on his bed.  
"Stitch, Jumba created a new experiment!"  
Stitch leaped up immediately.  
"Gaba?"  
"Look here, this is from just ten minutes ago."  
He scanned the screen, translating as he went.  
"…experiment…powers of…24, 6…6 … Jumba's head too big… Primary Function…"  
He gasped.  
"What?"  
"Nothing."  
_Oh great, now Stitch's hiding something_.  
"OK…" 

Stitch looked over that last word. Surely it could not mean what he thought it did…

Jumba sat typing away at his computer. He uploaded the data from Stitch's physical to the main database.  
"As I thought…"  
He then opened another file, made some alterations, and closed it.  
"Project Experiment Series 6 is being back on track!"

"Hey, Stitch, why don't you, you know, do some snooping?"  
"Snooping?"  
Stitch had never heard this word before. Maybe it was some sort of desert?  
"You don't know what 'snoop' means?"  
"Naga."  
"Er… to spy… sneak… seek covertly…"  
"Oh… OK!"

Stitch sat beside the doorway to Jumba's room, waiting for him to come out. And as he waited, he thought about the last few days.  
Jumba had defiantly not been acting like himself. At random intervals he started sweating and stuttering – at least more so than usual.  
Come to think about it, it was only when someone saw something in particular… first with the microscope, then with the titanium box…  
And what about his dreams? He couldn't ignore them, no matter how much he tried; they kept coming back to him. He could NOT let anyone take away Lilo, the one person that understood him, and treated him like a friend…  
He felt himself dig deeper and deeper into unconsciousness, and before he could stop himself, he was asleep.


	7. Jumba's Lair

**Jumba's Lair**

Stitch looked around.  
He was in a small room, very neat and tidy, with a bed at one corner, and a hutch dresser at the other.  
Then he noticed them.  
They were everywhere – lining the shelves, the ledges, and the mantelpieces, leering down on him like he was the evilest thing in the world. These were the many dolls of Myrtle Edmonds.  
Suddenly, a voice cut through the silence, so cold it made even Stitch shiver.  
"Experiment 626! I knew you'd come. I've been expecting you."  
Stitch looked around. But he saw no one.  
"Don't bother, 626, you'll never find me. Indeed, you'll never see the light of day ever again."  
Something grabbed him from behind. Stitch spun around.  
_How cute, a doll_, he thought. _Is that the best you can do?_  
Two more grabbed his arms.  
"Of cause not, 626, I can do far more."  
He swung the dolls off. But as soon as he did, ten more took their place.  
"You see, 626, I can anticipate all your moves and counter-act them."  
Stitch ripped them apart. But then, twenty or so jumped down from the shelves.  
"You can't beat me, not with force, not with negotiation, not with the strongest weapon ever invented."  
Three hundred dolls surrounded Stitch, and if he were not fighting for his life, he would have found this picture very humorous – drowning in a sea of dolls.  
"I am the beginning. The end. The one who is many."  
Stitch found himself completely free… but a moment later the sea of over two thousand dolls pulled him down again.  
"You cannot defeat me. You cannot destroy me. You will join us. Your resistance is hopeless…"  
"Stitch!"  
"Jumba?"  
He awoke to find the shocked face of Jumba looking down on him.

"What is wrong with genius experiment? You are being muttering in sleep, tossing and turning and talking about mean girl with spectacles…"  
"Nothing."  
Jumba knew from experience that it wasn't nothing. 626 had not been muttering in his sleep since the night after his activation, and Jumba had fixed that. Or so he thought.  
"OK, well, me and one-eyed-wonder are going to mall, so you are to be being on best behaviour. That means, no touching anything. Understood?"  
"Okataka!"  
Jumba could see a hint of deceit in his eyes, but said nothing of it.

Stitch watched Jumba walk down the stairs towards the kitchen, probably to make sure Pleakly didn't destroy the kitchen before their outing.  
Jumba had called him Stitch! He must have been really shocked, he had never called him Stitch before, preferring "genius experiment" or "six-two-six".  
No matter, now was the perfect opportunity to sneak into Jumba's room.

Lilo grabbed the two-way radio, hoping for the life of her that it was still operational, or that Jumba didn't still have the other end. She didn't know why, but she just felt… lonely when she hadn't spoke to him for more than half an hour. And this time it had only been hardly ten minutes, and she felt she had to contact him.  
She switched it on and adjusted the wavelength. A burst of feedback came from the speaker.  
"Oww… naga furdesa waka-teki."  
Her heart leapt.  
"So, MD, how you doing?"  
"Idesa doa o stalet cheeca."  
"What?"  
Stitch began to stutter in his broken English.  
"Nothing here. Meega search closet. MD out."  
"OK. BC out."  
At that moment, the batteries went dead.

Stitch switched the walkie-talkie off and headed towards the old wooden door of Jumba's closet. He opened it with difficulty and stepped inside.  
Inside there was nothing. Not even the tiniest speck of dust. He looked in the corners, around the sides, and up the roof. Nothing.  
He leaned against the wall. Except it wasn't a wall, because he fell right through it…  
Next thing he knew, he was down, his face pressed against a smooth metallic floor.


	8. Experiment 628

**Experiment 628**

Stitch looked around in amazement. Jumba had been able to recreate his entire lab down here! That was impossible without the Grand Councilwoman's knowledge – she had been closely monitoring Jumba's resource stock. But how then…  
He found the nearest terminal and typed furiously. Jumba had clearly covered his tracks well – there was not a mention of anything new. But there were some mentions of a new 'project', and something about the 600 series…  
He checked the map. "All 'projects' – e.g. technology, biology, genetics, other – can be found in Area D2," the computer droned.  
He easily found D2.  
He walked through the doors – which made a pleasing 'whoosh' sound. A terminal was already logged on and waiting for input. It read "Processing file E-IGE-85364635-628… Complete."  
Suddenly something beeped. Stitch turned around.  
Before him was a glass container with some sort of opaque liquid. As he watched, he noticed the fluid level was going down…  
As the liquid drained away, he saw an ear, an eye, a nose… a body… him… and yet not him.  
Suddenly, it opened it's eyes. Stared curiously down on 626.  
And then hammered the container… it cracked. He hammered again. And again.  
After about the fifth time, the glass finally yielded, shattered, collapsed. The figure jumped down from the platform, the glass crunching beneath his feet, and yet he did not flinch even once. He glared at Stitch… and spoke.  
"Experiment 626, you shall not defeat me."  
His voice was cold, heartless, evil. If there was anything that could compare to it, it would be the voice of Lord Voldermort of _Harry Potter_ fame.  
"Why are you so sure?" Stitch growled back.  
"Because I am Experiment 628, and I am in every was superior to you."

"BEEP!"  
A yellow fluffball was snoozing in an old but very comfy armchair. At least, that's what Gantu thought it was. The term might have been "footchair"… Even after two years on this stupid waterlogged mosquito infested planet, he had still not learnt some of the most basic terms.  
"625!"  
The yellow furball raised his head groggily.  
"What! I was dreaming of sandwiches!"  
The computer beeped again.  
"You were supposed to get that!"  
"Why can't you? Even you can push a button."  
Gantu muttered to himself as he crossed the room to the experiment container and pressed one of the buttons on the padd.  
"…why do I have to do everything around here…"  
"Experiment activation detected. Origin, Area 585, Vector 65. Unknown experiment activated. Primary function, unknown."  
"WHAT?"  
The computer beeped again.  
"Incoming communication..."  
A gerbil-faced being appeared on the viewscreen.  
"GANTU!"  
"Dr Hamsterville!"  
"Of cause it is me, you over-sized whale with legs!"  
Experiment 625 clicked his tongue.  
"Told ya he'd be mad."  
"You did not…"  
"Stop with all the not paying attention to me! Now, tell me, what did it mean, _unknown_?"  
"I don't know, it must be a bug in the software, it's never done that before…"  
"I don't care what it has or has not done, just get me my experiment! Now!"

Lilo wandered down a path she had not been down since… forever. Not since Gantu first showed up and tried to capture the then evil 626…  
"Aloha Lilo."  
Lilo stopped in her tracks. There, straight in front of her, was Kioni Jamison. Ten years old, tall and cute (well, to Lilo anyway), Kioni was Lilo's major crush. Not that he didn't know that. Experiment 199 had told him all about Lilo's crush on him, but she had managed to cover it all up. At least, so she thought.  
Thoughts started rushing round her head. _What will I do? What will I say?_  
Finally she decided.  
"Hey Kioni."  
"Look, Lilo, we need to talk…"

"Pleakly, we are not supposed to be putting dog food in salad!"  
Jumba and Pleakly were at the brightly-lit, too-colourful, brand new Westfield Mall, decorated with hundreds upon hundreds of posters proclaiming "99.999 percent off everything" and what-not.  
Pleakly, a one-eyed, bright yellow, cross-dressing, typical Roswell-style alien, was pushing a shopping cart filled to the tip with dog food, foot powder, birdseed and talcum powder.  
"Excuse me, but Helen the Hostess…"  
"I am not caring what snobby earthling on one-way visual telecommunication device is saying, humans do not eat birdseed!"  
"Excuse me, but who is the Earth expert here?"  
"If your knowledge of Earth is being as bad as flabby earthling disguise, we are being in trouble," Jumba muttered.  
"What was that?"  
"Oh, nothing…"


	9. The Truth Is Hard To Tell

**The Truth Is Hard To Tell**

"We need to talk?" Lilo repeated.  
Any girl knew that those four words were the worst four words in the universe – usually it indicated that the speaker wants to break up the relationship…  
_Calm down, Lilo, there's nothing to be worried about. Technically, we don't even have a relationship…_  
That thought made the whole thing worse.  
"A…ab…about what?" she stuttered.  
"About aliens."  
_Whew, that was… wait, why aliens? Unless…_  
"Did you know that UFO sightings have increased in Kauai by over 3000 percent?"  
"Er, no…"  
Yes, she did. With the introduction of the former Captain of the Galactic Federation, Gantu, into the society, seeing his ship fly overhead had become a regular occurrence.  
"And alien sightings themselves have increased, mainly ones that look like large whales with legs."  
"Wow, really?"  
She tried to act surprised, but even she knew that description could only fit one person – Gantu.  
"Also, 286 people have reported sightings of weird dogs, cats and pigs with strange powers, too many to be a coincidence."  
These would have to be Stitch's 'cousins', the other 625 illegal genetic experiments created by Jumba Jookiba.  
"And all this started when your so-called 'dog' came around."  
"Heh, just coincidence, I'm sure."  
"And by the way, I did some research online – there's no such thing as a blue-furred exoplasmic detection dog."  
Lilo covered up Stitch's 'weirdness' by saying he was a 'rare blue-furred exoplasmic detection dog'.  
"I want the truth, Lilo. I know you're hiding something."  
Inside, she was tearing herself apart. Should she tell him? Kioni was, to her, more than a friend, and she didn't want to lie to him. But she also didn't want to put him, or more importantly, Stitch, in danger. Telling him may cause all sorts of hassles…She imagined Stitch strapped to a dissection table 3001 times his own weight, far beneath Area 51, surgeons advancing with scalpels in hand, or scientists working a cloning machine, with lights flashing, buttons blinking, that would, in the process, destroy him, much like what Jacques von Hamsterville tried to do a year previous. Sure, Sparky had been there, but he may not be around next time.  
"I can't."  
"Wha…"  
"Look, I'm sorry, but I can't."  
She brushed pass his shoulder, a tear emerging from her eye. She rushed down the path.  
"Lilo, wait!"  
She did not stop until Kioni was far out of sight.

"Let me pass, before I do serious harm to you."  
"Naga!"  
Stitch wasn't about to let this one pass; after the number of experiments he'd lost to Gantu, he wasn't going to let another one get away.  
The experiment didn't reply. Which gave Stitch time to give him a once-over.  
628 looked exactly like Stitch; right down to the smallest hair… no, there was something different. His fur, instead of blue, was the purple of wisterias, and he had an extra spike on his back.  
Finally, he answered.  
"Oh, well, I warned you."  
Electricity started emanating from his hands.  
"Don't worry, this won't hurt a bit."  
Suddenly, a purple thunderbolt discharged across the room and hit Stitch in the stomach. He had no time to react, to escape, to even think.

628 stood over the unconscious body of his cousin.  
"Too bad… He would have been the best… but instead he chose this."  
He stepped over the body of 626 and walked towards Section A8.  
"Activate self destruct sequence 68F-4A. Authorisation code Jookiba-beta-2. Silent countdown, two minutes. Complete lockdown."  
He smirked as he exited the lab.  
"Lets see poor little cuz get out of that."


	10. 628's Escape

**To my readers: **This chapter is rather short and bland, but don't despair, the next two chapters will be (more-or less) full of... stuff. (Won't give anything away, though.) Thanks for all your continued encouragement, and I hope to see more of you speaking up.

* * *

**628's Escape**

Lilo had slowed to a walk. She was just admiring the beautiful sunset, when she felt something rush past her.  
It then turned around, and stopped barely twelve centimetres in front of her.  
"Ah, the famous experiment catcher, Lilo Pelikai. You will find that I am more than a match for you."  
And then it rushed off, faster than she could blink.

"Ooh, patooka ogeta…"  
626 rubbed his head. Where was he? What was going on?  
Then it all came rushing back to him.  
He had been snooping through Jumba's lab… trying to find something… someone… Experiment 628.  
But it had shocked him with some type of thunderbolt… how long had he been out for? Maybe ten minutes, maybe a day…maybe a century. He had no way of knowing what the time was. Unless… Jumba's computer!  
Stitch scanned the area. A terminal was still active; upon it was some type of countdown. The date was… December 25th, 2004, 17:12:23… only forty-one seconds had passed. But the countdown… that's what worried Stitch. He had seen, once before, Jumba doing an evacuation drill; back when a five-thousand credit price was on his head. That's what this was…. a self-destruct sequence! Counting down from 1m:19s:53ms…  
Stitch tried to remember… there was a password… eleven characters long… but what was it…

628 stopped for a moment and looked back at the Pelikai house.  
"One minute, eighteen seconds… let's see if you can pass the first test…"

"…G-A-L-U-B!"  
"Access denied."  
Stitch tried again.  
"W-K-G-A-V-M-H-L-T-M-J!"  
"Access denied."  
_This is no time to go all 'Access Denied' on me!_  
He tried yet another time… the timer read 20 seconds.  
"G-U-B-N-A-T-W-T-R-P-O!"  
"Access denied."  
_Come on… twenty-second time's the charm…_  
"H-J-D-M-T-B-P-T-S-R-N-V!"  
"Access denied."  
Stitch checked the timer again… 8 seconds…  
"K-A-L-T-R-I-X-Y-U-I-P!"  
The timer froze, and at one second, it couldn't have been more welcome.  
"Access approved, self-destruct sequence aborted."

628 covered his ears, expecting a boom… but it did not come.  
"He did it… I underestimated him… no worry, he will be no match for me…"

Stitch rushed out Jumba's closet, through the hallway, out the door, and down the pathway he was certain 628 had taken. He just hoped he still had time…

Lilo tried to make sense of what just happened. A… was it an experiment? Yes, it looked remarkably like Stitch, except for the purplish colour… but there was something else different… apart from the ability to speak perfect English… what was it…  
She wasn't to know it at the time, but that one thing was to be the difference between life and death…

Experiment 628 ran through the woods, not looking once back, but speeding forwards, edging closer to his destination…

Gantu drifted overhead in his hovercraft, scanning for any sign of an experiment.   
Suddenly, he spotted him – from that altitude, he looked like nothing more than a purple splot, but Gantu was certain it was him, dodging the match-stick trees.  
"Yes, that's right, come to me," he whispered, fingering his plasma gun.


	11. The Chase

**To My Readers: **Sorry it took so long to upload, I've had school and stuff, so I haven't had much time to update...

**The Chase**

Stitch kept on running.  
He'd been running for ages, down the endless path… for what seamed like an eternity, he had been running mile after lonely mile, searching the horizon for that ominous figure, that purple being he now hated so much.  
But for ages, there was nothing.  
It was now early evening, and the air was cool. Stinging winds from the south bombarded him, but still he kept going, until he saw something.  
It wasn't 628 – it was more of a red blob on the horizon.  
Stitch ran towards it, hoping that whatever it was, it was at least friendly.

Lilo saw something rushing towards her.  
Was it the experiment?  
Her wonder turned to delight when she saw who it was.  
"Stitch!"  
She scampered up to him and gave him a giant hug.  
"You don't know how lucky you are, I've been through the worst moment of my life…"  
And she started telling him everything… Kioni Jameson, how he was beginning to get suspicious, how she had defended 626, how she had ran away… and the experiment, what it did, how it stared at her, analysing her… it was creepy.  
At that point, Stitch seamed to perk up for some reason…  
"Ika manoba 628!"  
"Wha… you mean, that was 628?"  
"Ih!"  
"Wait… Jumba created a 628?"  
"Ih!"  
"OK! Let's rock-a-hula, Stitch!"

* * *

The trees were whizzing past at an alarming rate as Lilo stared intently ahead, her hand resting on the control for the capture cannon. In her head, 628's words echoed constantly…  
_You will find that I am more than a match for you…_  
Why did it bother her so much?  
Because no experiment had ever said those words to her…  
And what about Jumba? He had created yet another monster of destruction… but why? Didn't he retire from the evil genius department?  
Soon the target had come into sight.  
"Experiment detected," the computer stated unnecessarily.  
_Don't think; just go with your instincts.  
_

Stitch was at the steering wheel, dodging rocks, trees and boulders, in the new and improved "Buggy 3.0". He vaguely remembered Jumba telling him about it, but had never got a chance to try it. Until now, that is.  
The experiment turned left. Stitch followed, narrowly avoiding a thick clump of trees. Maybe Jumba wasn't as accurate as he thought…  
His sensitive ears picked up the drone of an aerial transportation device. A blast of plasma whizzing by confirmed his suspicions.  
"You're not getting away that easily!"  
A grey being, about fifteen foot tall while standing, and twelve foot while sitting, who looked incredibly like a small whale with legs, sat at the console of some type of hovercraft-spaceship hybrid, which bore a strange resemblance to himself.  
In other words, Gantu.  
Stitch grumbled. _Just what I need… Now I've got to concentrate on Gantu, this '628', _and_ the millions of miles of foliage._  
He scanned the horizon. Nothing but trees, trees, trees…  
The experiment changed course again. It seemed to Stitch that he was trying to throw them off his trail, or annoy them enough to give up, as he always stayed just an inch from reach.  
Though the trees were starting to look strangely familiar…  
Then Stitch realised where 628 was going.

"Just one more inch…"  
Lilo concentrated on 628, hardly even noticing the stream of red-hot plasma extruding from Gantu's ship.  
Until it hit a tree, that is.  
She shrieked as the mighty almost-70-year old oak, with it's gnarled and weathered bark, came crashing down toward us. With a flash, she saw a terrible apparition play in front of her eyes… the stormy night… the tree… her parents…  
"Lilo?"  
She snapped out of it. The buggy was still racing through the forest, as if the oak had never fallen. But she knew it had… she turned around.  
A gargantuan log lay, thick as she was high, looking as old and wrinkly as ever.  
"Stitch! How did you…"  
"Nookie-nookie," he said, tapping his head.  
"Oh, I forgot…"  
_Stitch can think faster than a supercomputer, I should have remembered that…_  
She shook her head. _I've got to concentrate on the experiment…_


	12. The Chase Part Two

**MeHeleNoLiloLover: **Star Trek is a major plot in this story. Apart from the fact that Lilo's mum (and presumably Lilo herself) was a huge ST fan, the theme is an important part, especially later on.

* * *

**The Chase (Part Two)**

"Juubaka, chi nadja shi Jumba kanoka. Ka 32-92-8," Stitch commanded the computer.  
"What did you say?" came Lilo's voice.  
"Car on autopilot."  
"Oh."  
He took out his plasma blaster, and pointed it to the sky.  
_Just got to keep it steady, and…_  
"Woah!"  
A branch flew out of nowhere, and he fell back into his seat… the plasma blaster went off, and hit the left wing engine of Gantu's craft.  
_Not exactly what I was aiming at…_  
"Argh! That trog blew out the navigational relay and the main engine!"  
"Warning: Navigational relay offline. Main engine has been incapacitated," droned the computer needlessly.

"Why… won't… you… hold… still!"  
Lilo aimed once more, but yet again scooped a bunch of dirt.  
_This experiment is a tough one_, she thought.  
"All right, once more…"  
She slowly dragged the controls to her left.  
"A little more… got it!"  
She pressed the Activate button. The capture cannon burst into life. In a matter of seconds, it had scooped up something.  
"Bio-reading complete. Object identified as: soil."  
Lilo banged the dashboard with her head.  
"Why, why, why…."  
Her musings were interrupted, however, by a wail and a giant detonation. She peeked over her shoulder. A large mushroom-shaped cloud was hanging over a large crater about 15 feet in diameter. And emerging from the cloud, sprinting as if his life depended on it, was Gantu.  
"You haven't won yet!" he yelled at the buggy.  
"Give it up, big dummy!" Lilo shouted back.

"Do not call me that! Never call me that! This isn't over!" Gantu shouted, even though his joints were getting seized up from all the running. He halted and slumped against a tree. All those chase scenes were really taking their toll…  
While he waited for his energy to recharge, he studied the surrounding landscape. The foliage looked strangely familiar…  
Abruptly, he heard the slow "putt-putt" hum of a primitive land-based vehicle made in the Earth-year 1915. An automobile, going by the name of "Model-T".  
He looked around, but could see nothing that would make such a sound. Curious, he followed the noise.

* * *

Three minutes and about 800 crushed trees later, he came to a large, very long piece of tarmac commonly known to humans as a "road". Rolling along it at about 20mph was an incredibly simplistic earth-bound transportation device, powered by the combustion of petroleum and other fossil fuels via four crude cylinder shafts.  
Gantu stood for about five minutes, inquisitively watching this marvel of ancient technology, before he realised how significant it's presence was.  
_If there is a road hardly 200 meters from that experiment's course, then I can get to the fore of the trog and the little earth-girl and catch the experiment first!  
_Gantu, marvelling at his good fortune, started jogging down the road, humming "93 Bottles of Pop on the Wall". 

"So that is the so-called 'experiment catcher' Gantu?"  
628, hidden from view, examined the large fish with legs as he plodded down the street.  
"I see he has a communicator… he won't be needing that anymore…"

"Are-you-sure-this-is-the-way-he-went?"  
"Ih."  
Lilo jiggled up and down as Stitch steered the buggy down five flights of steps.  
"Can't we go down the ramp? Before lunch comes back up on me."  
"Naga, no ramp."  
By now the experiment was far out of sight, somewhere down the Kumuwela-Kokee Trail.  
The buggy launched itself off the last step and landed with a thump on "Kumuwela Road" as Stitch preformed an intensely tight turn to avoid the wall of trees in front of them.  
It was a few minutes before the computer beeped, however not about the experiment.  
"Warning: humanoid lifeform within 200m," it chirped.  
Stitch slammed on the breaks. As they came to a halt, Lilo saw whom it the computer was referring to.  
"It's the big dummy!"  
Sure enough, Gantu, unconscious, lay sprawled out in the midway of the lane of asphalt and gravel. Slightly buried in a pile of soil were his belt, experiment container and an electrical device, which looked similar to a mobile phone.  
"What happened to him?"  
Lilo hopped out and examined the scene.  
"His blaster's missing!"  
Stitch nodded and seized the device. Wiping some of the sludge off it, he played around with the object, before turning it off.   
"Ih, scarra tica juaba!"  
"What?"  
"Communicator memory wiped."  
"Which means…"  
She thought about it for a minute.  
"Umm… that… er… that someone used it and didn't want anyone to know about it! But who would want to do that…"  
Suddenly there was a murmur. Gantu had awoken.  
"What happened… hey, what are you doing with my communicator? Give it back!"  
Stitch threw it to the ground and jumped back into the buggy as the large whale-like creature got to his feet. Lilo, following his cue, jumped in the driver's seat and started the ignition.  
"Computer, autopilot, Waimea Canyon, and step on it!"  
The buggy sped off.

"Why is it not being here?"  
Jumba upturned the living room couch, unsettling a large pile of dust.  
"Achoo!"  
"Looking for something?"  
Pleakly stood at the door, watching Jumba's fruitless attempts.  
"Yes! Someone has… achoo… stolen my all-in-one… achoo… key!"  
"You mean the one for the buggy?"  
"No! Buggy is having own key… achoo! I am leaving on… achoo… large wooden plank upon which… achoo… humans make with the chewing…achoo… and swallowing of nutrients…"  
"You mean the dining table?"  
"Is what I… achoo… say!"  
He sniffed noisily.  
"Now where is cardboard box which is being filled with many very thin pieces of heavily-compressed tree fibre…"  
"You mean the tissue-box?"  
"Yes! Is what I…"  
"I think it's in the buggy which…" Pleakly squinted through the window-blinds… "is not here. You can have my spare… which is… somewhere…"  
"Oh great… achoo!"

Experiment 628 stopped.  
He pulled out something and examined it carefully. It looked like a blob of melted metal.  
"So this is Jumba's all-in-one key? Very clever, he disguised it as a worthless bit of rubbish. This will be very, very useful…"


	13. Unavail∙ Contacts and Override Sequences

**HeMeloNoLiloLover:** Yeah, I did make that part rather vague... hopefully the updated version will make more sense.  
**To my readers: **In case you didn't read the last message, I've updated the last chapter a bit... so read and enjoy!

* * *

**Unavailable Contacts and Override Sequences**

"All my contacts are gone! NOOO!"  
Gantu stood in the middle of the roadway, mourning the loss of his comm.'s memory.  
"That's what happens when you get too attached to your mobile phone," whispered a nearby tourist.  
Gantu chose to ignore this comment. He had better things to do than to worry about arrogant earthlings. Like pummelling the trog, for instance.  
He set off toward Waimea, certain that where that abomination was, the experiment was sure to be.

"Ackjak na kadash!"  
"Hamsterwheel override sequence initiated," the computer responded.  
"It's Hamsterville! Ville, you all so soothing computer voice!"  
Why did everyone and everything have to make fun of his name and appearance? It wasn't his fault he looked incredibly similar to that stupid Terran rodent. The Hamsterville family came from a long line of hamster-like beings, even though the two species had no relationships whatsoever. A hundred years ago, the name Hamsterville was something to be proud of. Now, it was just ridiculed. All because a stupid Halgarian cargo ship got lost in a stupid plasma storm and ended up discovering that stupid planet Earth.  
"Computer, contact Captain Gantu."

"_We're gonna rock around the clock tonight  
We're gonna rock, rock, rock 'till the broad daylight  
We're gonna rock, gonna…"_

Gantu hastily turned off his ringtone.  
"CallerID, who is it," he groaned.  
"You are receiving a communication from the phone number: 5550198293434533655882. The caller has identified himself as: Dr Jacques von Hamsterville," the computer replied cheerfully.  
_Oh, great_, he thought. _I've lost my shuttle and my blaster and now Hamsterwheel had to call? Could my day get any worse?_  
He blocked his ears, waiting for the rant.  
But it did not come.  
He dared to glance down at his communicator.  
A dialog box had appeared, asking "Do you want to accept this call?"  
_That's right, the 3000 series only automatically accepts calls from contacts… and since I have no contacts…_  
"Computer, decline call."

"Error. Error. Error."  
"What is it now!"  
Hamsterville was very annoyed. His pizza came out all mouldy (then again, all prison food is) and the comm. system had been playing up.  
"The phone number you have called is not responding."  
"WHAT! THISISANOUTRAGEISHOULDFIRETHATINCOMPETENT…"  
"Oy! You! Hamsterwheel! Calm down already!" shouted the security guard outside."  
"IT IS HAMSTERVILLE!"  
"OK, OK… sheesh, don't have to get all cranky…"  
The security guard walked away, having (luckily) not peeked in Hamsterville's cell.  
"Ajack kay kaddash!" whispered Hamsterville.  
The equipment packed itself away, and Hamsterville's container device turned upside-down again.  
_Maybe now I can have a nice nap… and get rid of all thoughts involving that bungling__ Gantu…_

628 walked at a rather slow pace along the bottom of Waimea Canyon. He stopped, admiring the beauty of the Hawaiian Hibiscus, its simple structure and lifestyle.  
That is, until he heard a shout from behind.  
"Quick! We're gaining on him!"

Lilo armed the capture cannon again.  
"Computer, aim capture cannon. Bearing 239, mark 382. On my mark…"  
The crosshairs centred on 628.  
"Fire!"  
Quicker than she could blink, the cannon scooped up 628. Or so she thought.  
"Computer, analysis."  
"Bio-reading complete. Object identified as: large rock."  
"No!"

628 sped around the corner. He'd have to be more careful next time.  
He climbed up an overhanging ledge where Pelikai couldn't see him and scanned the horizon.  
Suddenly, he spotted what he was looking for.  
"I will get there, and there's nothing Pelikai can do to stop me."


	14. Hamsters and Tuna Sandwiches

**Hamsters and Tuna Sandwiches**

"Computer, scan for 628."  
Lilo impatiently tapped her fingers on the dashboard, waiting for the process to finish, which surprisingly didn't take very long.  
"Experiment 628 located. Autopilot activated."  
"OK, let's go!"  
Then she noticed Stitch, who after all the excitement, looked rather bored.  
"Er… Stitch?"  
Stitch looked up slightly, and then returned to staring blankly into space.  
Call it intuition, but Lilo knew something was up with Stitch.  
"What's wrong?"  
Stitch muttered something in Tantalog and returned to his state of deep thought.

_This doesn't make sense! Why would 628 lead us on a wild goose chase all around Kaua'i?_  
Stitch's brain was working in overtime.  
_Unless he wanted to throw us off the trail… but so far he's seemed to actually _enjoy_ us chasing him…  
I'll think about it later…_

"And the pickled cheese's connected to the sausage, the sausage's connected to the lasagne, the lasagne's connected to the tomato sauce, now hear the word of the Lord, Amen!"  
625 was in the middle of a pasta-on-rye sandwich. Well, what had been a pasta-and rye sandwich, at least. But unfortunately, _someone_ (meaning Gantu) had forgot to turn off the communicator, which meant a high-pitched beeping now filled the air, causing 625 to knock over his sandwich, which meant pasta now lay on the floor.  
"Oh, great, that's the third time today! This better be important."  
He switched on the screen. A moment later he wished he hadn't.  
"WHEREISTHATINCOMPETENTGANTUISHOULDHAVEHIMKEELHAULED!"  
"Calm down, Hamsterwh… er, ville! No need to take it all out on me… tell you what, you're obviously upset, why don't I send you up a nice tuna sandwich and we'll… um… talk about your childhood?"  
"IDONOTWA… wait, did you say tuna?"  
"Yep, with mayonnaise!"  
"Deal!"

"Experiment within 200m."  
The buggy flew around the corner. Surely he would be there, thought Lilo.  
But he wasn't.  
"Computer, deactivate autopilot. Stitch, take the wheel."  
Stitch obliged, and slowed the buggy to hardly walking pace.  
_Why isn't he here?_  
Abruptly, something stirred; Lilo turned around and found herself face-to-face with 628.  
Obviously startled by the sudden movement, 628 jumped down and dashed down the road.  
"There he is!" shouted Lilo.  
"Oh no you don't!" a very familiar voice bellowed from behind.  
"And there _he_ is."  
Gantu, who had obviously been able to find another plasma gun, stomped through the trees, randomly bombarding the surrounding landscape in a feeble attempt at hitting 628.  
"By the moons of Andomeda VII I'll get you!"  
"Meega-o-itume!"  
They had reached a large area cleared of all and any foliage, empty except for a standard issue Federation G-343 police cruiser. To be precise, the one that Stitch had stolen over two years ago.  
And with a jolt of recognition, Lilo realised exactly why 628 had been heading for this exact spot, why he had been leading them all over the island.  
"He was searching for this."  
"Gaba?"  
"He was looking… for a way off this planet. He's… going to Turo."


	15. Bullfrogs and Mud Puddles

**Author's Note: **MAA stands for Miles Above Atmosphere.

**Bullfrogs and Mud Puddles**

"Pasawa!"  
628 smirked. It was fun to make fun of Gantu – he was such an easy target.  
"I WILL get you!"  
"Ika patooka Gantu!"  
"Why you little… you should learn to pay more respect to the former Captain of the Galactic Armada than that!"  
"Meega nala QUEESTA!"  
"Hey, that's my line!"

"When I was about five earth-years old, I loved playing Risk, it was merely a holoboard, but it was such fun!"  
Hamsterville was recalling his childhood to the (surprisingly) attentive 625, who, every now and then, would scribble something on his notepad and stop his mock glasses from sliding down his nose.  
"Uhuh, uhuh, go on…"

"By the Great Magalia Cloud you're gonna regret saying that!"  
_The nerve of that trog! I'll send him back to Hamsterville all right – assembly required!_  
Gantu felt like tearing him apart limb by limb. He sure had some cheek!  
But the trog had already climbed into the cruiser. He would have to make do with overloading the hypercoil. He aimed for the drive compartment.  
But unfortunately, that didn't work either. Gantu, being the absolutely amazing shot he is… missed. By three feet. Maybe going back to applied blasting class wasn't such a bad idea.  
"Engines loaded. System ready. Navigational system is on. Preparing for liftoff."  
Gantu tried aiming again. He had the nozzle perfectly aligned…He pulled the trigger.  
But nothing happened.  
_Blitxnak! Why does this thing only not work when I need it to?_  
Ditching the blaster, he decided to make a run for it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw 626 stop the buggy, obviously determining it too risky.  
"Countdown started. Liftoff in five seconds."  
He was only six meters away, if he sprinted, maybe…  
"Four."  
Or if he charged…  
"Three."  
Or jumped…  
"Two."  
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea…  
"One."  
Mummy?  
For a moment, he dismissed all his negative thoughts and lunged at the craft.  
"Zero. Liftoff initiated."  
The engine blast pounded Gantu backwards.  
Onto his blaster. Which only just happened to start working.  
_Oh, _now_ it's operational_, he thought as the blaster fired. And, astonishingly, missed Gantu.  
The pellet of plasma ricocheted off the now airborne G-343, off the buggy and into a _Cocos nucifera_. Numerous 'coconuts' dropped off the flora and plummeted into Gantu's spinal column, resulting in the inevitable drop into a sludge puddle of close proximity. A _Rana catesbeiana_ leaped onto his cranium.  
"Oh blitxnak" was all he could say.

"That dimwit Gantu! Now I have to re-calibrate the vectors to compensate for the damage he caused!"  
628 switched to drift mode, then furiously typed number after number into the computer hub.  
"Recalibration complete," the computer responded merrily.  
"OK, set orbital vectors at 300 MAA and switch to manual control."  
"Vectors set."  
The cruiser zoomed off, slowly gathering altitude, higher and higher, until 628 could no longer make out the three humanoids staring directly up at him.


	16. Revelations

**Revelations**

"Jumba! You've got some 'splaining to do!"  
Lilo opened the front door, accidentally squashing Stitch into the wall.  
"Oops. Sorry Stitch".  
"I'm OK. I'm fluffy!"  
"What is there to be explaining about?" said Jumba as he walked through the lounge into the kitchen.  
"Did you make an experiment after 627?"

_I should have seen this coming…__Little girl or 626 have probably been playing around in my room again… after the 32946th time I am telling them not to…_  
"Er, no… why is little girl asking?"  
"Explain this, then!" exclaimed Little Girl as she pulled out…  
A photo of Mr. Sunburnt Icecream Tourist. Why does he always seem to be around? Why is he not just going back to home country?  
"Oops," Little Girl muttered, blushing a little. Jumba couldn't help but chuckle.

"…and when I was twelve, I founded the 'Future Evil Geniuses Club'… Ah, I will always remember my time there. It was the greatest… until that snobby arrogant _Qweltian_ showed up. He thought he was all that, with his intelligence, his experiments, his…"  
"Woah, rewind! This wouldn't be Jumba you're…"  
"_Jumba_! How I hate that name! He and I agreed to create 600 experiments together, but what does he do? Goes ahead and produces 195 experiments all by himself, and claim the rest were his! I quit at Experiment 385…"

"Don't lie to us! We saw the experiment files!"  
"Experiment files? How could you… oh, yes, is only… er… theory! Yes, that is being it! Only theoretical! I would never, ever make…"  
"… ikata juu nabata?"  
The look Jumba gave Stitch was one that could melt lead.  
"WHAT? Why I ought to…"  
"Na-a-a! Chu Lilo na iki bobo!"  
"OK, OK… sheesh!"  
"So… did you?"  
"Did I what?"  
Lilo put a strained look on her face. _Jumba's being like this on purpose._  
"Create another experiment?"  
"No! Of cause not!"  
Lilo fixed him with a very piercing stare.  
"Er… maybe?"  
"Look, right now 628 is hovering right above us and if we don't hurry he'll vaporise us all! Or turn us into beach mummies! Or worse, destroy the mall!"  
"Yeah, ika naga tookie!" Stitch added.  
"Alright, I confess! I created a 628! I am pleading guilty to all charges!"  
"But why?"  
Jumba shrugged.  
"I was being bored, so am thinking, why not be creating evil genius experiment?"  
Lilo sighed.  
"I guess it's true. Once an evil genius, always an evil genius."  
"Did I hear correctly?"  
Pleakly waddled down the stairs and into the dining room, juggling a bowling ball, several tires, three-and-a-half tons of cement and two cricket bats.  
"Did I hear you say that Jumba's created another little monster and he's hovering above the earth right now waiting to vaporise us all?"  
"Or the mall," replied Lilo.  
Pleakly promptly dropped everything he was holding.  
"WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO!"  
Unfortunately, he didn't drop the said items where he intended to.  
"YEOUCH!" yelled the Plorgarian as pain pulsed through his second foot.  
Lilo winced.  
"That gotta hurt…"  
If Pleakly's throbbing limb gave him any further pain, he did not show it. Instead, he carefully slid the almost completely crushed foot from underneath the bowling ball. And started lecturing Jumba.  
"What were you THINKING? Do you want to kill us all? We barely got away from your last 'success', and now you want to do it all again? And he's probably got some type of vaporiser…"  
"Plasma gun!" corrected Jumba.  
"Whatever! Either way, this is not very good! No, this is the opposite of very good! This is very bad! What are we going to do? What are we going to do! What are we…"  
"QUIET! I am trying to think!"  
Lilo giggled.  
"Why don't we go after him?"  
Jumba shook his head.  
"Little girl, that is being most silly idea I am ever… w-wait! What if we go after him?"  
Lilo gave Jumba a look of extreme annoyance.  
"Hello? That's what I just said!"  
"So then it's settled."  
"You're going after him?"  
"Ih." "Yes." "Of cause!"  
"But how…"  
"My ship, duh!"  
"But what if he goes into hyperspace?"  
"Is not to be worrying. I have been developing new improved hyperdrive – less energy consumed, faster travelling, is eco-friendly, and has snazzy bluish neon glow! Also have been improving communication systems, and installing holomatrix, so that incoming communications are appearing on holographic screen just like Grand Councillady is having…"  
"You mean Councilwoman?"  
"Is what I say!"  
"But… but…"  
Pleakly desperately looked for some type of flaw in the plan.  
"…what about Nani?"  
"Do not be worrying so much, little one-eyed one. I have also been installing holomatrix in Little Girl and 626's room, so that all Older Girl will be seeing is what she is _thinking_ is Little Girl and 626 sound asleep, when they will be up there!"  
At this Jumba pointed vaguely at the ceiling.  
"And," he continued, "I am leaving note saying that you and I are being at sci-fi convention, and not to be expecting us 'till late in nocturnal Earth-cycle. 'Tis all being taken care of!"  
"But… but…"  
"But what?"  
"But… Oh, alright, I'll pack lunch."  
"Yes!"


	17. Mistakes

**Ri2:** Unfortunately, Jumba's not that evil. He just has a _lot_ of time on his hands. _And_ he gets bored easily. With the note, he's implying that he _will_ leave it, not that he has. About Pleakly... I would presume whatever supports his body structure is strong (but flexible)... I believe he did a juggling act for _Look At This!_ in the episode _Swirly.  
_

* * *

**Mistakes**

"Jumba! Pleakly? LILO!"  
Nani tapped her foot impatiently. _Where could they have gone?_  
She looked in Lilo's room. Nothing.  
She walked through the kitchen. Nothing.  
She hummed through the lounge. Nothing.  
She peeked in Jumba's room. Nothing. (It's getting a little repetitive, ain't it?)  
_Maybe they're in Jumba's ship…_  
She walked out the door, jumped the stairs ten at a time, and jogged down the Mahalo Trail.

Jumba pressed button after button.  
He turned nobs.  
He pulled levers.  
A zap pulsed through the air.  
The door opened to reveal…  
"The perfect glass of milo!"  
"Wha?"  
"What? Even evil geniuses need to snack… now 'tis time for to be launching ship, no?"

"Jumba!"  
No response.  
Apprehensively, she walked up the ramp.  
She found herself in a pitch-black hallway about thirty metres in length. She strolled along it, occasionally bumping into the walls, unsure of what she'd find at the end.

"OK, is every one and body being strap-ped in?" shouted Jumba, his finger hovering over the keypad.  
"Yes!" "Ih!" "I think my strap's on too tight…"  
Lilo thought she heard someone else reply, but shrugged off the notion.  
"All right, is to being time for showing!"  
He pressed a typically large, red, flashing button that had inscribed something Tantalog on it, which Lilo presumed translated to "Press Me".  
Suddenly, she heard a low roaring, soft at first but getting louder and louder as each second went by… the smell of burning plastic filled the air, which Jumba explained was "uburnium being melted".  
By now the "propellers" were rotating at an almost dizzying rate, "720573 rotations per minute", as Jumba said. (How could he tell?) Lilo felt sick watching them, so she turned her attention to the terminal. Lines of text streamed through, pausing every now and then when a task was particularly hard, or when it requested Jumba's input. Every now and then she caught a line or two (he actually did it in _English_?).  
Unfortunately, the speed at which the text was scrolling made her feel a little queasy, so she started watching the trees straining against the gale-force winds the "propellers" created.  
Slowly, the vessel lifted off the ground. Jumba was still staring at the terminal, which was _still_ going at nauseating speeds. Pleakly was intently reading "Galactic Federation Ships for Plorgarians – Cruising the Galaxy for the Rest of Us!", awkwardly (and noticeably) hiding it behind "A Thesis on Endangered Species – Mosquitoes by Wendy Pleakly". Stitch was scanning the now starry sky.  
"I am now activating holomatrix!" shouted Jumba suddenly, making Lilo jump. "Am only hoping that older girl is not checking in now, no?"  
By now they were well clear of the trees, and rising fast. Above them, a flock of geese, organised in the V formation, squawking happily, flew northbound.  
"OK, am turning ship around, facing Terran II…"  
"Wha?"  
"Terran II is what you Earthlings call 'Venus', no?"  
"Oh…"  
Slowly they moved sideways, Jumba gazing ever more intently at the screen. Lilo watched the universe revolve around them, until eventually a bight star, in fact the brightest star, came into view.  
"OK, hang on tight, or you will be losing many lunches, no?"  
Before Lilo could say anything, the ship blasted through the atmosphere, with everyone on board (save Jumba and Stitch) hanging on for dear life.

Nani wandered along about the fifteenth passageway, her body aching.  
_Where does Jumba put a light switch around here?_  
Almost at once, the ship lurched forward, causing her to trip over a large, conveniently placed titanium box, causing her to fall through a large, conveniently placed pit and land in a large, conveniently placed bag of flour. Unfortunately, a small, conveniently placed watering can fell through the large, conveniently placed hole and onto Nani's large, conveniently placed head.

"Scanning for known lifeforms."  
628 tapped his claws on the "dashboard" impatiently. He had never been very patient (then again, how many of Jumba's evil genetic experiments were?)  
"Scan complete. Would you like the planet specifications first?"  
"No, I think I'll go with the ship."  
"Two human, one Qweltian, one Plorgarian, four unknown or genetic experiments."  
"Uhuh… OK, what about the planet?"  
"4.3 billion human, 13 Plorgarian, 235 other alien, 392.9 billion fauna, 624 unknown or genetic experiments."  
628 thought about this for a moment.  
"Computer, calculate how much these figures will be in four hundred years time and send them to C E N T R A L Central Intelligence… she'll want to have a look at this."


	18. Confrontation

**Confrontation**

"Warning: Galactic Federation Ship approaching. Registry number GFS-5815. Designation: _Dakana_."  
"Well, aloha cousin," 628 said, to no-one in particular. "We met again, on a different battlefield. And this time, you won't get away so easily."

"626, please to be taking wheel, am having evil genius thinking to be doing."  
Jumba stood up and left the room, leaving Stitch to grab the navigational control device.  
"Warning: Police cruiser detected. Class G-343, unknown registry number."  
"Jumba, I think we found him!" Lilo called down the corridor. There was no reply.  
And indeed, upon the screen a small craft, hardly four meters in length, sat, hovering ominously over the blue marble that is Earth.  
"Now," Pleakly's high-pitched voice rang out, "Galactic Confrontation rules apply! We can't hit them until they hit…"  
A green flash enveloped the screen. Stitch heard an explosion in the lower sections of the ship.  
"Warning, hull breach, sector 2A corridor 3. Sealing off sector."  
"Would that be reason enough?"  
Pleakly was now hiding under his chair, shivering uncontrollably.  
"Y-y-y-y…"  
He then made a squeaking sound, somewhat like the noise a mouse makes when it is trodden on.  
"I take that to mean yes… go get him, Stitch!"  
Paw on the button, Stitch swooped in upon the cruiser much like a hawk upon it's victim. Trying to catch 628 off guard, he shot left, then right, then straight.  
But 628 was ready for every shot.  
Upping the ante, Stitch started performing a random plot scenario – shooting in all directions. But again, 628 managed to dodge each one.  
And, turning to face them, the cruiser shot five times, Stitch easily manoeuvring around each shot.  
"Yeeha!"  
"You had coffee today, didn't you?"  
"Coconut cake _and_ coffee!"  
But what 628 did next was totally unprepared for.  
"Warning: hyperspace portal detected. Sector 656 mark 872."  
"Wha…"  
"He is engaging H-drive!"  
Everyone looked back. Jumba had arrived.  
"Is he crazy?" Pleakly started screaming. (He seams to do that a lot…) "If he hits us at this distance, we're talking Level 5 collision with Earth… no survivors!"  
The ship jerked down a little, as Stitch carefully pulled on the steering wheel (after all, he didn't want to break it like last time…).  
It was only a little, but it was enough. The cruiser zoomed past them. A humongous BOOM was heard behind them.  
"We've got to go after him!"  
Jumba said nothing.  
"Hello, Jumba?"  
"We have to for to be getting out of here!"  
"Why?"  
"Because… you know why!"  
"Why?"  
"Because… remembering to when you and 626 is taking ship after me? Gantu is dropping into hyperspace, and when waves are hitting ship…"  
"…they drained the power!"  
"Yes, 'tis being exactly right. Now, please to be excusing me, 626…"  
Stitch hopped out of Jumba's seat and into his own.  
"Now," said Jumba, getting into his chair, "I am checking co-ordinates for to being where 628 is to be heading for, and he is going to a small group of planets in Sector 02. I have already inputted vectors, so all we are needing to do is…"  
"…press the button!"  
Lilo, quick as ever, pushed a small red button marked "Hd".  
"OK, please to be being seated, and having seatbelts on until captain has turned off seatbelt sign… heh heh!"  
Jumba chuckled at his own joke.  
"But seriously, 'tis time for showtime!"  
The ship blasted through space. With a loud bang, they entered "hyperspace", a mass of colours, shapes and sizes.  
"Hey, this looks like when we were going on the time mach… mm mmph!"  
Pleakly had covered Lilo's mouth before she could blab on how he had _let_ them _borrow_ the time surfboard.  
"Heh, kids these days… what she means is… uh… rhyme machine!"  
Jumba looked unconvinced.  
"Helps you bust a funky rhyme! 'My name is Pleakly and I'm all about style…'"  
Jumba still looked unconvinced.  
"From my shirts to my dresses to my… well, you get the idea, don't you?"  
Jumba sighed.


	19. Chosen Ones and Nebulae

**Chosen Ones and Nebulae**

BOOM.  
An explosion pulsed through Sector 02.  
"Ah! Big sky go boom boom!"  
"Is coming of Chosen One!"  
"We must bow and wait!"

* * *

An Ardinian strolled through Capitol, whistling with his eyes shut.  
When he opened them, he was shocked to find that just about everyone was stooped down to him.  
"What? Me just go toilet…"  
"Look! Is Chosen One!"  
"All hail Chosen One!" 

"Er… is time to be waking up now, we're here!"  
"But we can't cross the river without pickles!"  
"Gaba naga pikaba?"  
Confused, Jumba tried again.  
"'Tis no time for the river-crossing, 'tis time for the waking up!"  
"But we can't cross the desert without pickles!"  
"Gaba naga pikaba?"  
"Of cause there is being no pickles, this is being Sector 02!"  
"But we can't eat pickles without pickles!"  
"Gaba naga pikaba?"  
"OK, that is just being ridiculous… Little Girl, 626, please to be waking up now!"

"Computer, scan for any spacial anomalies within the sector."  
"Gravimetric sphere detected. Vector 37 mark 939."  
"Good. Set course at half impulse."

"Fishface, there's someone who'd like to talk to you!"  
"625, not now, I'm bus… oh no."  
"GANTU! What is this I hear about you not catching yet another experiment! I have just been talking with 625 here, who makes an excellent cheese and tuna sandwich, by the way, and we have decided that the best punishment is revertation."  
"You mean…"  
"That's right… MINIMUM WAGE! MUHAHAHA!"

Having finally gotten Little Girl and 626 up, Jumba slowly steered the ship towards the cruiser's EM frequency signal.  
"So why did you w-w-wake us up again?" asked Lilo, trying (and failing) to stifle a huge yawn.  
"We are being here."  
"So? Why didn't you wake up P-P-Pleakly?"  
"One-eyed noodle is not knowing which way of ship is up!"  
"Er… why would we need to know that?"  
"You will be seeing…"  
"When?"  
"Later. First I must be finding out where 628 is to be heading."

* * *

The great ship came to a halt at what seemed to be a giant nebula.  
"Jumba to Astrophysics, calculate figures of the mass and send a full report to my computer."  
"I've never seen a nebula before… it's beautiful."  
Jumba chuckled.  
"Yes, little girl, 'tis being very wonderful to the eyes, no?"  
"Kinda like jelly and icecream…"  
"Ih, with hokey pokey!"  
"But what's that white-hot circular thingy?"  
"'Tis being fireflies."  
"Huh?"  
"Fireflies, which is being stuck in big bluish-black thing."  
By now Jumba was close to tears, trying hard to muffle a chortle.  
"Jumba…"  
"Well, 'tis being… er…"  
"…a Type 3 quantum singularity."  
Lilo jumped.  
She couldn't believe who had said that. The noodle-brained empty-headed Plorgarian was describing what a singularity was.  
"…whom's density is extremely… er… dense! One teaspoon would be enough to break an entire Class-C planet apart."  
"Hey, wait just one minute, why is it you are knowing so much about astrophysics?"  
"Well, astrophysics was the only subject I got straight A's on…"  
"Then why did you become an Earth expert?"  
"Or rather, an Earth non-expert," mumbled Jumba.  
Pleakly chose to ignore that comment.  
"I was intrigued by Earth… I got caught up in a 'Save the Mosquitoes' demonstration…"  
"Which we are all knowing now, is not so endangered."  
"Yes, I know that now, but making them think it is ensures that no-one will disturb this planet for a long time…"  
At this, he winked at Jumba.  
"You sly imp you! Maybe it is you who is being true evil genius."  
"Yes… of cause, I plan to tell them when the newly proposed "Prime Directive" comes into effect."  
"Prime Directive? What is this prime that is needing directing?"  
"No… I mean… it means… that aliens are not allowed to interfere with the technological advancement of any pre-hypertravel civilisation."  
"Does that mean I will be losing my ship?"  
"No, Jumba… as long as the humans don't capture it…"  
"Ah, good…"  
"Warning: Experiment 628 is engaging hyperdrive," the computer droned.  
"'Tis heading for singularity!" Jumba exclaimed. 

"Waning: proximity to object 464337 is too close. Any attempts to activate hyperdrive can be fatal…"  
"I know, I know, just hurry up already!"  
_Why do these computers have to be all "Warning, eating that ice-cream could be fatal"?_ 628 thought.  
And with a flash and a boom, the cruiser and 628 vanished.


	20. Boldly Going Forward

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
Chapter 20: Boldly Going Forward** _('Cause We Can't Find Reverse!)_

"Here we are going!"  
"Oh no! We are NOT flying into a black hole!"  
"But is not being black! 'Tis being kinda goldish-orangish colour…"  
"I don't care! We have no idea where we'd be going!"  
"So you want to be facing older girl's wrath?"  
"Er…"  
Jumba smiled, knowing he had won. Nothing was worse than Nani on the warpath – not even plunging headfirst into a not-so-black hole.  
"Um… OK," he groaned.

"Warning: Unknown ship detected. Vector 56 Mark 320."A 20-year-old European girl sighed. _This is going to be a looong day…_  
"Ensign, take us about and open channel."  
"Yes ma'am," replied a 21-year old female of Hawaiian decent.  
A beep signified the comm. uplink was open.  
"This is Captain Jameston of the _U.S.S. Serenity_. Please respond."  
Nothing.  
"This is the Constitution-Alpha class vessel _U.S.S. Serenity_. Please identify yourself. We mean you no harm."  
Still nothing.  
"Any weapons?"  
"Just a Class-C plasma converter…"  
"But those are ancient!"  
"So is this vessel…"  
That was true – Starfleet had given Jameston the oldest ship in the fleet, a Constitution-Refit, 130 years old and counting. She had personally overseen all repairs, upgrades and whatnot, and had thought of the new name and number. NCC-82535. Starfleet had been so impressed that they had given it a class all of it's own. Just for a few repairs… after all, it needed to be brought into the twenty-fifth century more than her techno-phobic mother! She wished her father could see her now, in this trashcan of a ship…  
She rested her head in her hands. Could that thing have…?  
No, it was impossible.  
"Well, follow that ship. Maybe it will lead us back."

"WE SHOULD BE GETTING THERE RIGHT ABOUT NOW…" Jumba roared over the sound of the hyperdrive in overdrive.  
"WHAT?"  
"WE SHOULD BE GETTING THERE RIGHT ABOUT…"  
Suddenly, the engines halted. Space, or the image of space rather, rebounded on them like a rubber band on one's finger when one pulls it too tight.  
"…NOW!"  
In the dead silence that followed, Jumba's words reverberated around the ship. Lilo covered her ears quickly, wishing to prevent permanent hearing loss.  
"Oh… er… I'll just be scanning surrounding star systems…"

"_Captain's Log, stardate 139869.1.  
With the sudden appearance of another, but substantially larger, ship of the same design, I have turned the ship about (again) to identify the source of the vessels."_

"Have you succeeded in achieving a comm. uplink, Ming?"  
"No, ma'am. I've tried all frequencies except one that hasn't been used in about 400 years, but I don't think that will…"  
"Can you do it?"  
"Yes, but…"  
"Then do it."  
Ming was saved from answering by a sudden blaring sound.  
"Malo, I thought I told you to turn _off_ the auto-red alert, not make it more annoying!"  
"Yes, but there's…"  
"I don't care what it is, just turn that thing…"  
She stopped suddenly when she saw what was on the screen.  
"How far away is this?"  
"About 24 light-years and closing fast."  
"OK, set a course for Sector 001 at highest maintainable warp! Now!"

"Uh-oh…"  
"What is it Jumba?"  
"Well, for one thing, 'tis being a… a distance between us and Earth."  
Pleakly eyed Jumba suspiciously.  
"What kind of distance?"  
"Well… the large kind."  
"You didn't land us near Orion's Nebular, did you?"  
Orion's Nebular, not to be confused with the Orion Nebula, was the outermost outpost in Federation space. It lay just over 200 light-years from Earth – almost one-eighth the way from Sol to the centre of the galaxy.  
"No."  
"Phew! Well, that's a relie…"  
"We are being over thirty-thousand light-years from home. It would be taking over 200 years for us to be going back."  
"WHAT! We're on the other side of the GALAXY?"  
"There's more bad news…"  
"_More_ bad news?"  
"The distance between us and home is not just through space. Adjusting for star and galactic drift, orbit decay and change of organisation of constellations, I have estimated today's date and time to be Saturday 14th of November 2374, 5 hours, 20 minutes and 37 seconds past mid-nocturnal cycle. We are being in future."  
At this, a loud clunk was heard, signifying Pleakly fainting, soon followed by a loud yell, signifying Stitch prodding Pleakly with his claw.

Less than 20 light-years away, a woman sat at a console, twiddling her thumbs. All was dark; the only thing you could see was the silhouette of the female against the glow of the screen. Every now and then a spark flew from one of the many severed wires.Thousands of voices filled the room, each in harmony with the rest, an unnatural symphony of words.  
"The Galactic Federation ship GFS-5615 has exited aperture 7389."  
She smiled. "Lilo Pelikai, we meet again…"


	21. Ships and Experiments

**Ships & Experiments**

"What was that!"Something had just zoomed past the ship. A grey blur, it had been impossible to determine. That is, of cause, without Jumba's state of the art video processing software.  
"Just be waiting a minute, I will be locating and enhancing frame so little girl can for to be looking at, no?"  
A large greenish glowing translucent flat thingy appeared. It kind of looked like those giant electronic billboards you see mounted on the sides of buildings in Japan, except it wasn't attached to the wall, was floating three feet from the ground, and you could see through it. And, as Jumba demonstrated, walk through it too.  
"Woah… cool!"  
Lilo stood in awe, gaping at the immense size.

Stitch shook it off. He'd seen more impressive things in the Grand Courthouse.  
In a split-second flash, an image appeared on the screen. It looked all blurry and deformed, kind of like Pleakly's so-called "meatloaf".  
"OK, applying sharpening filter… ten percent intensity."  
Now, it looked like Pleakly's face during the application of that greenish mud that he calls "Beautimud® packs". Or something like that. And though they didn't do anything to help his complexion, they did make a nice supplement to cheese sauce…  
"Number one, and number two," said Jumba, messing around (or, as Jumba liked to call it, "working") with the filter. "Which one is looking better? Number one, and number two."  
_Cut it out, Jumba, you're not an optometrist_, 626 thought.  
"OK, thirty percent."  
Now it looked like Pleakly on a bad hair day. Which isn't saying much, owing to the fact that he doesn't have any hair. And his wig looked stupid.  
"'Tis being sixty percent now…"  
Now it looked like something other than Pleakly all messed up. Which again, isn't saying much, owing to…  
_No, I won't say it. It's too easy._  
Squinting at the blurry image, Stitch thought he could just make out a few letters on the main blob.  
U… S… S… S… How many S's _can_ you have in a row?  
"OK, 'tis eighty percent…"  
The blob suddenly looked less blob-like. And more ship-like. Like a certain type of ship. A certain fictional type of ship. A certain fictional type of ship that wasn't supposed to exist. A certain…  
"That looks like the _Enterprise-A_!" exclaimed Lilo, voicing Stitch's musings.  
"_Enterprise-A_? What is this ship that you are knowing about?"  
"You haven't watched _Star Trek_? Where have you been this century?"  
"Um… on Delta Quaam?"  
"Never mind…"

Lilo returned her gaze to the screen. It was a majestic ship, gleaming in the morning sun, so to speak. She, of cause, knew every part of it. From the dull grey of the saucer, the large bulk underneath, at the front of that bulk a royal-blue refracting dish, and the cornflower-bluish glow of the warp coils.  
Except that this wasn't the _Enterprise-A_. Even if they _had_ somehow slipped into an alternate universe, it was the wrong time period. Starfleet, the 'Galactic High Council' of the time, discontinued production of Constitution-Refit-class ships in the 2300's!  
Then she noticed the inscription… _U.S.S. Serenity_ was etched upon the saucer, between the designation… _NCC-82535_.  
_Serenity_… She liked the sound of that… it was at least better than _Enterprise_, which had more a business-like air to it.  
Suddenly, she had the strange, inexplicable feeling that she was being watched. She shook it off, explaining it away to herself that it was just another suspicion, an invention of her paranoid mind.

Two decks below, nothing was to be seen.  
All was silent. Until…  
"YEOW! 419, you stepped on my foot!"  
"It's kinda hard to see without the lights!"  
"Didn't Jumba give you hyper-sensitive retinas?"  
"Um… no…"  
"What? What was he thinking?"  
"Maybe that dealing with quantum physics and astronomical data would _not_ require seeing in the dark!"  
"Well, he shoulda thought about that before creating a 628!"  
A loud, booming, Russian-accented voice rumbled through the deck.  
"Quiet! Little girl is already getting suspicious! And I don't need Pleakly on my tail…"  
"Yes, Unca Jumba," the two experiments chorused.  
"Is it _absolutely_ necessary to be calling me that?"  
426 spoke up.  
"Well, since you don't like being called da…"  
"Not to be saying D-word. _Ever_."  
"OK, OK, sheesh!"

Sixteen light-years away, the woman paced the room.  
"Target acquired," she whispered to herself.  
Upon her console, an image appeared. Of a ship. Jumba's ship. It glittered in the starlight, stared out of the darkness.  
The unnatural symphony of voices poured into the room like mercury.  
"Co-ordinates determined. Unimatrix 032, Grid 12. Activate!"  
The ship launched forward, gliding like some unearthly being.  
"Alter course to intercept!"**  
**


	22. Intruder Alert!

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
Chapter 22: Intruder Alert!**

"What was that?"  
"Did you hear something?"  
"Ahhh! Something's got me!"  
"419, that's me!"  
"Oh… um… what's that?"  
426 followed 419's shivering finger to what looked like a bright red light floating in mid-air.  
"Am I dead?"  
"No, quiet!"  
426 could hear a loud rasping noise coming from the same general area.  
419 tried to say something, except the only thing that came out was a squeak.  
"Jumba, is that you?"  
"Don't be silly, Jumba doesn't have… that… red… glowing… eye… thingy…" replied 426. "And anyway, he's shorter."  
"But 628 has that red eye thingy…"  
"And he's waaaaay shorter!"  
The being took no notice of the experiments; indeed, it didn't seem to take notice of anything at all.  
426 examined the being. It was a human; at least that's what it looked like… kinda. It was almost entirely covered in some type of plastic-looking material, it's left arm was replaced with a synthetic arm… well, a synthetic _something_. It had more resemblance to a power line pole than an arm. It basically was a large cylinder about as thick as the thing's head (literally), and had a claw-like attachment… attached… to it. The bits of its skin that were visible – basically the neck and a bit of the face – looked clammy, white.  
_Dead_, thought 426.

419 examined the being… It looked like a floating red light thingy.  
"Um, what's it doing to the computer terminal?"

The attachment had changed to what looked like some kind of laser shooting a bright blue beam - or was it sucking it up? – at/from the terminals."I dunno, but I don't think it's here for maintenance."  
The screens flickered on and off, and 429 could hear the sound of the impulse drive shutting down and restarting.  
He pounded a large, circular, round, red, glowing button marked "I-A".

Sirens blared throughout the ship. Lilo covered her ears again to keep her eardrums from shattering.  
"Intruder alert!" yelled Pleakly.  
"Cannot be hearing you," bellowed Jumba. "Intruder Alert is being too loud!"

* * *

"I have been tracking intruder to Deck Three, Engineering Section."  
Pleakly seemed perplexed.  
"We have more than one deck?"  
"Why, of cause, one-eyed one, did you not notice the increased size and capacity?"  
Now, come to think of it, it did seem larger… slightly. And Pleakly was sure that there had not been _that_ many corridors, alleys and paths through the ship. Did the original ship even _have_ any corridors?  
Pleakly did a quick calculation in his head. At the current rate of expansion, the ship would soon need a orbiting docking port… over San Francisco would be nice. It would probably need some kind of shuttle to transport passengers… though, maybe it would be better to recalibrate the landing gear and take-off rockets instead… the shuttle might then be used for ship-to-ship transferrals…  
Just as Pleakly thought this, Jumba stopped.  
"We are needing to be going through shuttlebay…"  
"We have a SHUTTLEBAY?"  
"Yes. Soon ship is to be being too big to be leaving on ground, no? Will be causing massive orbit changes, which is not being good for Earth… So am planning to be keeping ship in orbiting docking bay… will be using shuttle to transfer passengers… though maybe 'tis better to just be reconfiguring thrusters and landing supports…"  
Pleakly's lower jaw unhinged itself.  
_Is Jumba psychic?_  
Jumba pressed a button on the keypad beside the door, which opened with a resounding whoosh.  
"Presenting… Alpha Flyer!"  
It looked like a giant bar of red soap, about three meters high and nine meters in length. The door had something Tantalogian inscribed on it, which Pleakly roughly translated to "ship which is having door." Or something close to that.  
"'Tis beautiful, no? Comes with complete tactical, navigational and experimental database, zero to hyperspace in under ten seconds, and is having those squishy cushions little girl is liking so much…"  
He pointed to the struts at the top of the ship, much like the ones on the… did Lilo say _Enterprise_?  
"Unlike GF ships, the hyperdrive on this ship cannot be folding up into cargo bay when not in use, but snazzy azure glow more than makes up for it, no?"  
He pulled out his PDA and typed something.  
"Please to be excusing me, am needing to be… er… um… using bathroom? Yes, that is being it, using bathroom."  
He plodded out of the room.  
_Something suspicious is going on with Jumba…_  
Pleakly pulled out his notepad and took notes. 


	23. Threats and Arguments

**A/N:** Thanks for all the reviews so far! Please note that I pretty much have the plot set in stone, and any changes to it now would mean I have to scrap the sequel... three chapters, down the tube.  
**  
Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 23: Threats and Arguments  
**

"Naga!"  
"Ih!"  
Experiment 426 was leaning against a pole, arguing with 419, who was pressing a bunch of buttons.  
"Naga!"  
"Ih!"  
"Naga!"  
"Ih!"  
"Naga!"  
"Ih!"  
"QUIET!"  
"What's up, Dr J?"  
Jumba's image flickered on and off one of the screens.  
"You have to for to be getting out of there!"  
"But we can't… for… to… be… getting out of here!" replied 426.  
"And why not?"  
"Your 'intruder' is blocking the doorway."  
The creature was doing something to the controls of the doorway.  
"_What?_ You are telling me that you are in Engineering Section…"  
"Uhuh…"  
"…and that little girl, 626 and one-eyed noodle is heading your way this instant?"  
"Well… actually, you're telling us now."  
"You have to be hiding! In laundry chute, near T4…"  
"There's a _laundry_ in here?" asked 419.  
"Yes… now, to be going in, now!"  
"But it's filthy, and gross, and it probably has spiders…" complained 419 in a whimpery voice.  
"NOW!"

"Um… now that I am… er… finished that… um… we should be going."  
Jumba led the group through the bay and down another corridor. He stopped at an unremarkable door of no significance.  
"OK, this is being turbolift, goes straight down to Engineering."  
He typed something in the keypad. The door whooshed open.  
"OK, everyone in!"

"Command acquired. Target: not identified."  
426 stared at the thing from the laundry shaft.  
"It talks to itself? I told you it was crazy…"  
"Quiet, 419!"  
Suddenly, the door at the far end swished open. Four beings tumbled out, one they recognised as Jumba.  
"Get off my third foot!"  
"Yeah? Well, you are to be getting finger out of eyes!"  
"Um… I'm getting a little squashed here… Jumba?"  
"Oh, sorry, little girl."  
The creature turned around to see what all the commotion was about.  
"Target acquired. Mission complete."  
It then de-materialised.  
"Er… what was that all about?"  
But Jumba had a panic-stricken look on his face.  
"It cannot be… but it has to be…"  
"What?"  
The small Hawaiian girl beside Jumba (_That must be the "little girl" Jumba always talks about_, thought 426) picked herself up and brushed off some dust on her muumuu.  
"Er… never minding… um… we should be getting back now."  
"But we just got…"  
"NOW!"  
"OK, OK, sheesh…"

When Jumba got back to the bridge, he immediately started typing something on his computer.Lilo came up beside him.  
"Who was that, Jumba?"  
"Cannot be telling you right now," replied Jumba, a grim look on his face. "Have to be reconfiguring shields…"  
Suddenly, the ship rolled with the force of something hitting it at high speed. Everyone, with the exception of Stitch and Jumba, was knocked over.  
Pleakly got up and pressed a few buttons.  
"We have been latched onto with a high-signature long-EM ranged tractor beam… wait, we have shields?"  
"So little one-eyed one is knowing, and yet he has so much to be learning… 'Tis another project I've been working on. Shield technology to repel incoming plasma torpedoes, tractor beams and baseballs annoying neighbour children keep on throwing on roof."  
Lilo spoke up.  
"Pleakly, can you repeat whatever you said… in English?"  
"Basically, a tractor beam is kinda like having a trailer at the end of your car," replied Pleakly.  
"Which one's the trailer?" asked Lilo, knowing the reply.  
"Us."  
Something started beeping.  
"We have an incoming communication!"  
Jumba sighed.  
"Put it on screen."  
The holographic screen sizzled into life, temporarily fizzing with static, before displaying an image of a room – no, that wasn't an accurate description, it was more like the inside of a bee hive, only all metal.  
_Maybe these are those creatures from "Attack of the Bumble-Bee Mummies",_ thought Lilo.  
A million voices blared through the speakers. A million voices synthesized, a million voices symphonised, none caring for the lives in front of them.  
"Lilo Pelikai, you will lower your shields and surrender to us. If you do not comply, we **_will_** destroy you."


	24. Resistance is Futile

**A/N:** Sorry it tooke so long to update, but I've been working on my website and programming and then the telephone lines were down _all_ weekend... Oh, well, gave me time to actually write something...

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 24: Resistance is Futile**

The screen sputtered into nothingness.  
"Oh no, oh no, this isn't very good, this is the opposite of very good, this is very _bad_!"  
Pleakly started running 'round and 'round the ship, arms flailing in the air.  
"AHHHHHH…"

"Who were they?" Lilo asked, in a somewhat awed voice.  
"'Tis just as I feared…"  
"Who?"  
"The Borg!"  
"The what?"  
"I thought you are to be watching _Star Trek_, no?"  
"Only classic Trek! I never watched _The Next Generation_ or after!"  
She lowered her voice.  
"Nani says she hid them for a good reason… she's never told me why, though…"

Jumba thought for a while.  
"How should I be putting this… have you ever read _A Wrinkle In Time_ by Mad Line Ledge?"  
"Madeline L'Enge", Lilo corrected him.  
"Yes, yes… remembering that entity being called **IT**?"  
"Yeah…"  
"That is like Borg. They are all thinking as one mind… with a single being controlling it all… one of my previous lab partners created a line of robots based on same philosophy… I think 'tis being called Bee-Bee or Cee-Cee or something like that… if 'tweren't for Possible Kim, he would be taking over world!"  
"You mean, Dr. Drakken?"  
"No, he is being called Andrew Lipsky…"  
"Doy, that's Dr. Drakken's real name…"  
"How are you knowing this, one-eyed one? No, wait, let me guess, you signed up for Possible Kim fanclub."  
"Well, actually… yeah."  
"But the point is, Lipsky is only having three robots… the Borg encompass thousands of star systems, millions of planets, billions of people, all thinking as one, with Queen at center, telling everyone else what to do."  
"Like an ant colony!"  
"Exactly, little girl. And with Borg knowing we are here, they are having almost infinite supply of resources to capture and assimilate. To them, defiance is hopeless. To them, resistance is futile."

"Have they responded?"  
"No."  
The woman smirked.  
"Send a 309 detachment, tag 'n' bag."

"…AHHHHHH…"  
Suddenly the screaming of Pleakly stopped, owing to the fact that he had run into a large steel cylinder and the sound usually heard when one's body impacts some kind of hollow metallic container now filled the air.  
"Er… Pleakly… are you OK?"

"At this rate, maybe we'll catch up with _Voyager_!"  
Chuckles filled the room. The _U.S.S. Voyager_ was at least a hundred light-years in front of them, and it would take little over nine years to reach them at maximum warp – and that's if they were standing still!  
"Ming, have you got that status report?"  
"Yes, ma'am! Three ships have been detected. One's been tractored by the Borg cube, but – there's something weird going on…"  
"OK, weird me," Jameston replied with a sigh.  
"According to these readings, one's _inside_ the cube... but then again, the stupid subspace scans have been playing up all week…"  
"I see… Malo, turn this ship around!"  
"_What_?"  
"Well, we've gotta go save them! They could be a useful ally…"

"YEOW!"  
Pleakly woke up to find Stitch slobbering all over his face.  
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"  
"He was trying to wake you up…"  
Pleakly stood up and wiped the goo off his face.  
Stitch walked off in the direction of the hallway.

Lilo waited while Jumba explained to Pleakly the situation.  
"You mean to say that that… _thing_ is a member of the most patently malevolent creatures to ever hit syndicated television?"  
"Well… since you are putting it that way…. yes."  
"And they're going to _destroy_ us?"  
"Well… yes."  
"This isn't very good, this is the opposite of very good, this is very _bad_! What are we going to do? What are we going to _do_? WHAT ARE…"  
"Would you please stop with the repeating yourself? You are disrupting evil genius thinking!"  
"But these… _things_ are going to destroy our ship! We need to _panic!_ What are we going to do? What…"  
With a flash, a being materialised on the deck. He… she… _it_ was a meld of man and machine. One half of its face was covered in some kind of mask, from which emanated a bright red light, which, Lilo supposed, was one of its 'eyes'. The rest of its body was covered in some kind of metallic substance, black, cold. The half of its face that Lilo _could_ see looked kinda like that of a mutant zombie.  
"Lilo Pelikai."  
Two more appeared, blocking Jumba and Pleakly from being able to go anywhere.  
The first grabbed Lilo by the scruff of the neck, who began twisting and turning, trying to wriggle free, but all to no avail.  
"Rah! Let me go! Urgh!"  
She licked the creature's arm. Which, of cause, resulted from several "Eww"s from the direction of Jumba and Pleakly.  
"Your attempt at escape is hopeless. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile!"


	25. Helping Hand

**Ri2:** That's actually not suprising, considering she bit Myrtle Edmonds...  
**HeMeloNoLilo:** OK, you asked for 'em, here they are!

* * *

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 25: Helping Hand**

"Um, where is being 626?"  
Jumba scanned the area, as though hoping that Stitch would magically pop out of the wall.  
"Oh, he went to the bathroom to read today's _Quammian News_," Lilo somehow said, despite the fact that she was being held back by two drone and her mouth was covered in a bandanna, some kind of weird sellotape, and Drone #1's right elbow. "He should be back right about…"  
"TOOKIE BA WABA!"  
"…now," Lilo finished, beaming at the sight of her loyal companion, and the fact that she had been right about his arrival.  
Stitch flew through the door, slipped over and slammed into the navigation control.  
"Oww…"  
"Stitch!"  
"I'm OK, I'm fluffy!"  
"Prepare to get your patookie kicked from here to the Pulson Nebula!"  
"Er… sorry to be correcting little girl, but we are already at the Pulson Nebula."  
"OK… um… then prepare to get your _gluteus maximuses_ kicked to the Andromeda Galaxy!"  
The drones, ignoring Lilo's 'chants', turned around and stared intensely at Stitch.  
"Subject analysis: Experiment 626. Threat: Minimal."  
Stitch muttered something that meant something along the lines of "That _so_ hurt!" and leaped at the creatures.  
But all he met was the floor.  
"Gaba?"  
He looked around. The drones were gone, as well as Lilo. Pleakly lay across the couch, apparently having fainted again.

"Incoming communication. Audio only."  
"On speakers," muttered Jumba.  
Billions of the heartless, soulless voices blasted through the speakers, reverberating throughout every corner of the ship.  
"Surrender to us or we will destroy you. Your defensive capabilities are unable to withst…"  
"End communication."

"LET ME GO!"  
"You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile."  
But still Lilo struggled.  
The drone dropped her. Winded, trying to gasp for air, she did not notice the needle-like pipes flying out of the drone's fingers. Not until they were entering her neck did she notice them, and by that time it was too late.  
Pain, as she had never felt before, entered her, filled every part of her. Every inch of her body was bursting with the intense pain.  
She screamed. And all went black.

"Gaba eek?"  
"No! Absolutely not!"  
"But Lilo…"  
Jumba sighed.  
"Look, 626, there is nothi…"  
At that moment, an explosion rocked the bridge; everything went flying as the computer stated that there had been a "hull breach, deck three, section IV" and that it was "sealing door to section IV" and that there was a "recompression danger" and that "item: 'Jumba's Mini Corn-Dogs' is interfering with recompression process".  
Boom after boom rocked and rolled the ship; and for fifteen minutes Jumba tried frantically to recalibrate the shield matrix, all to no avail.  
"'TIS NO USE! WE NEED TO RECONFIGURE THE SA1 PROTOCAL!" Jumba roared over the noise.  
"GABA?"  
"I SAID…"  
Suddenly the pounding stopped.  
"… WE NEED TO…"  
Jumba stopped suddenly as his words resonated around the room.  
"… er… eat mini corn-dogs?"  
The holographic generator whizzed and whirled, and the giant transparent greenish screen materialized in the middle of the room.  
"Incoming communication."  
The screen flickered into life, displaying an image of the outside. Space, star-streaked and breathtaking, filled the display, only interrupted by the sleek metallic ship in the distance. The monitor flickered again, displaying a room, obviously the bridge of a ship. In the center, one of those nice comfy twirly-seats you get with computers, and in that chair, a 23.2 year-old Caucasian woman.  
"We figured you needed a hand."


	26. Two Is Company, Three’s A Crowd

**Xoverguy:** Who said she was assimilated? That _could_ be just to knock her out...  
**Kioko the pirate:** Nice teaser!  
**HeMeleNoLiloLover:** Don't worry, she's fine. Well, at least, fine in the sense that she's not dead or critically injured.  
**

* * *

Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 26: Two Is Company, Three's A Crowd**

"What… how… who are you?"  
The woman smiled.  
"Captain Jameston, and that's all you need to know."  
"But why?"  
"Trust me, no-one deserves to be Borg-ified. Now, let's blow this pop-stand before they figure out what happened."  
"But Lilo…"  
"I want to save her too. But, 626, if we stay it will be almost certain that we will be defeated."  
"But…"  
"Anyway, 'tis evil genius' ship, and evil genius is driving. Computer, input co-ordinates 3-23-4 into hyperdrive and activate!"

"Drat!"  
Hardly 30 km away, the Borg woman watched the two ships blast off into the distance.  
"No matter. Match co-ordinates and speed!"  
The ship launched forward.  
"Lilo Pelikai has been captured," droned the drones.  
"Good. Bring her up to my… 'workplace'."

BOOM.  
"They're attacking!"  
"Wow, no duh."  
"Warning: Wormhole, 500km and closing."  
With a flash, the _USS Serenity_ disappeared.

"Where are we?"  
Ensign Ming picked herself from the floor and looked around. Everything was pitch-black; she could sense movement but didn't know who it was, until…  
"Computer, damage report!"  
The captain!  
The computer didn't reply. Ming picked up the sound of gas escaping a tube.  
"Damage report!"  
This time, the computer beeped.  
"Warning: warp reactor core primary cooler failure. Hull breach on decks 13, 14 and 15. Outer hull breach in engineering section."  
"Computer, how many people are alive on this ship?"  
"Twenty people, two are conscious."  
"Who?"  
"Captain Jameston and Ensign Ming."  
"Ming?"  
"Over here!"  
"Computer, emergency lights!"  
Dim light flooded the bridge. Jameston was on the other side of the room, near the comm. console, checking someone's pulse.  
"How's Malo?"  
Jameston looked up.  
"She's just knocked out. There are people in here looking _alot _worse."  
Ming tried not to look around in fear of throwing up.  
"Computer, activate Emergency Medical Hologram."  
What seemed to be a thirty-year-old man materialised in front of them.  
"Please state the nature of the medical emergency."  
"Must you say that?"  
"Well, is this a emergency or what?"  
"What a lovely bedside manor… let's see, we've got a ship full of dead and injured people."  
"I'll try not to spill any bodily fluids on the furniture, then."

Meanwhile, Jumba was trying to manoeuvre around the bombardment of shots from the Borg.  
"Warning: weapon systems have been disabled."  
"Chuuta, there is going my five percent discount…"  
Suddenly, the ship stopped.  
"Computer, what is the giving?"  
"Propulsion systems have been disabled. Shields have been disabled. Jumba's pop-corn maker has been disabled. Hull breach on deck three, sections II, V and CDXLIV. Power has failed."  
Immediately, every light on the ship went out.  
"Oh, chuuta."

"The _Dakana_ has sustained substantial damage."  
The Borg lady smiled.  
"Set a course to Unimatrix 527. They won't be following us."


	27. Technical Difficulties

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 27: Technical ****Difficulties**

"Warning: Warp core microfracture. Breach imminent."  
"What's the pressure of the warp coils?"  
Jameston paced around the bright blue warp coil containment field.  
"I'm reading 19602 kilopascals" Ming replied.  
"Lock down the magnetic restrictors!"  
"But if we lock them down now, the warp core may not restart!"  
"Warning: Warp core microfracture. Breach imminent," the computer repeated.  
"Look, if we _don't_, this ship will turn into the biggest fireworks display the DQ have ever seen, and I'm sure the Borg would _love_ that! We can get back on impulse, it will only take… longer."  
_3000 years longer,_ thought Ming, but did what she was told anyway.  
The bluish material streamed from the coils into a container.  
"Constrictors online."

Pleakly, who had woken up, was performing scans on all major systems.  
"All weaponry, propulsion and shield systems have been disabled."  
Jumba resisted the urge to knock Pleakly out.  
"I am already knowing that, tell me what I do not know!"  
"Power has reinitialised, though for some reason the lights haven't turned back on…"  
He typed furiously at the keyboard. Jumba gave him a rather amused look, as if to say 'Look at him, pretending to know what he's doing… just like three year old toddler, no?'  
"Ah, here's the problem… broken power coupling, deck two, corridor five."  
Jumba's jaw dropped about three meters.  
"Er… well… yes… 626, you go fix it."  
626 gave him a rather annoyed look, as if to say 'Naga tobata nala queesta!'

Steam filled the engineering room of NCC-82535, accompanied by a loud hissing sound.  
Abruptly, the hissing stopped.  
"The microfracture has been sealed," shouted Ming through the haze.  
"OK, move away so I can reapply the field," replied Jameston.  
Ming climbed down the console onto the ground. By now almost all of the mist had dissolved.  
"OK… field activated… I'll just unlock the constrictors…"  
Jameston typed. The computer beeped. Woo-hoo.  
"Done!"  
The blue stuff poured into the warp coils.  
"Pressure?"  
"Pressure holding at 25032 kilopascals."  
Just then, Jameston's comm. badge beeped.  
"Bridge to Engineering… how can I help?"  
"Malo!"

"Lilo Pelikai."  
Lilo opened her eyes.  
"You're awake. Good."  
Lilo looked around. She was in a kind of rather wide corridor, with another branching off. Lilo could only see three walls – one beside here and one at either end of the corridor. Where there should be one more, there was nothing but wide expanse – looking down would reveal the next level some eight meters down.  
Lilo squinted… she could only _just_ make out a giant barrier about three miles away.  
A console was fixated in the wall beside her, displaying a picture of what looked like a completely grey Rubix cube. She realised that this was the ship, as it displayed the condition of vital systems alongside.  
She noticed she was lying on a steel platform, or perhaps a bed. She tried to move. She couldn't.  
She focused on the woman beside her. Lilo presumed she was a Borg drone, though she had a gut feeling that this was not the case. The 'drone' almost looked human, a human wearing what bore an extreme resemblance to those suit thingys SWAT teams wore, sans helmet. Her head appeared lime in colour, though that was probably due to the green light flooding the area. She had… pipes? threading through her head, as though a replacement for hair. There was something about her that, to Lilo, made her look a lot like Susanna Thomason.  
Lilo thought she saw a tuft of fiery-red hair, but quickly shook off the notion.

"Who are you? How do you know my name?"  
The woman smiled a truly evil smile.  
"Simple. I am the Borg. The Borg is all."  
Lilo showed signs of puzzlement.  
"You're wondering how I, one being, can be the Borg?"  
"I know... you're the queen!"  
"My, what a smart girl, no doubt you were thinking of an ant or bee colony."  
She smirked again.  
"I am your worst nightmare."  
She walked up to the bed upon which Lilo was lying on.  
"I am the beginning, the end, the one who is many."  
The Borg Queen gazed directly into Lilo's eyes.  
"I am the Borg. And soon, you will be too."


	28. Broken Power Couplings

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 28: Broken Power Couplings**

"Icchi… ni… san… yon… go…"  
626 was counting corridors.  
Funny how it seemed like all of Jumba's long-term living facilities had long, dark corridors in abundance.  
_Conduits… where is that conduit?  
_  
"What's the status of the shields?"  
"Electromagnetic field pulsating at 12.842752860345 per…"  
"I'm not Jumba, 419, just give me the basics!"  
"Um…shields… down?"  
426 smacked himself on the forehead.  
"OK… thanks… um… can you locate the source of the problem?"  
"Sure…"  
426 thought he detected a hint of sarcasm.  
"Broken power coupling, deck two, corridor four," 419 read.  
426 didn't move.  
"Um… aren't you going? To fix the coupling?"  
"Um… no!"  
"And why _not_?"  
Silence.  
"Well?"  
"Well… with me, Jumba kinda missed his mark with the whole super genius thing… I mean, he _almost_ got it, but not quite… but you, 419… well… you can do nine-figure non-linear equations _in your head_! That's something I could only dream of doing… not that I _do_ dream about it," he added hastily.  
More silence.  
"OK, _I'll_ fix it…"

"You have: no messages waiting."  
"Hi, Nani Pelikai here. I can't come to the phone right now, so leave a message after the beep and I'll get back to you as soon as my younger sister stops begging me for ice cream. OK, already…"  
"Can I have chocolate and raspberry on mine?"  
"Sure… look, I'm in the middle of a rec…"  
"You're on the phone, aren't you? If you're Mr Jameson…"  
"No, Lilo…"  
"Nani says that she deserves a three-hundred percent raise!"  
"Lilo…"  
At this point, a long, loud beeping noise rung through the Pelikai house.  
"Hi, this is Dr Sanders. From Honolulu Hospital? Yes, something's come up about your parents' state of… living impaired-ness. I'm in Kaua'i on holiday next week, we can discuss it at Hasagawa's… or, if it's a sensitive subject, I'll just mail you a copy of the report…"  
"You have: one messages waiting."

"You don't recognise me?"  
The Queen was circling Lilo as a shark would its prey.  
"Well, no, and you'd think I would, with _that_ look."  
The Queen's smile faulted for a moment.  
"Well… since it has been 300 years… and we've got all the time in the universe…  
Back in your Earth year 2005, I was simply a little girl, living in Hawai'i. I watched you get teased, humiliated, rejected by whom you thought were your friends… when you mysteriously disappeared, along with your Qweltian 'uncle', Plorgarian 'aunt', and sister, I did some investigation… I found out about all the experiments, and Jumba and Pleakly's true identities…  
In 2013… don't worry, I kept your family's secrets," she interjected, correctly reading the look on Lilo's face. At least, Lilo _thought_ she was reading the look on her face…  
"Anyway, in 2013, I was picked out of millions to join the 'Tesseract Project', an early attempt at time travel. I was one of a group of ten.  
Unfortunately, no one ever come back. They all assumed that we had been vaporised or something… the real problem was that they had given us absolutely no way of getting back. We knew the risk, that we'd never return, and we decided to take that risk.  
Co-incidentally, we landed on a Borg ship during what would become known as The Battle for Sector 001. You know, Borg vs. Federation, Borg almost won… you don't know? Well, anyway, we found a transporter, and Vic – she was one of the people in my group – figured out how to work it. I volunteered to stay behind and operate the transporter… unfortunately, the Borg realised what was happening. Four others and I were assimilated…  
At that time, the Queen was on an important mission… to stop the first warp flight in 2063 … but the _Enterprise-_E just _had _to interfere… alas; she (the Queen, not the _Enterprise_) was eliminated.  
But, you see, it wasn't the end for the Borg…"  
"I bet _everyone_ hoped it was," Lilo retorted.  
"It was not the end of the Borg," the Queen continued, as if Lilo had not interrupted, " but a new beginning. The Primary Disjunctives of Unimatrix 001 scouted for drones with the qualities of the Queen. I happened to have those qualities."  
She paused.  
"Well, well, well, we're passing your friends in the _Serenity_… What's say we drop in on them, eh? We can finish the story when you're feeling more… co-operative."


	29. Playing Dead

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 29: Playing Dead**

"The _Serenity_? I don't know…"  
"Yes you do. You know each and every member of that ship."  
"What do you mean…"  
The Queen sighed.  
"Status report!"  
"The _USS Serenity_ is 96 percent inoperable. 47 percent of the ship is destroyed. No life signs detected. No salvageable parts detected."  
She smirked.  
"Well, that's taken care of itself…"

"The Borg ship is moving away…"  
A flash filled the screen of the _Serenity_.  
"They've just entered subspace."  
Jameston paced the bridge.  
"Malo, I must say you've done an excellent job in masking our signal."  
Malo blushed.  
"You can thank Magnus and Erin Hansen for that."  
"Forgive my ignorance, but who?"  
"The Hansens were two exobiologists, the first humans to study the Borg up close… Y'know they followed a Borg vessel for about three months without being detected… _Voyager_ sent back about 10 million teraquads of data earlier this year from the Hansens' logs via the Pathfinder Project before we… got lost. I just modified the shields to emit incorrect signals rather than no signal at all."  
"But why not just no signal?"  
"The Borg would become suspicious if they found no trace of the ship. They would eventually find us and… absorb us and our technology."  
"I see…"  
She sat down.  
"Ming, follow that vessel. Match speed and course. Malo, can you shield our signal completely?"  
"Can do, Cap'n," replied Malo.  
"Make it so. Ming… engage."

"Lets see… to get to corridor four, you must… uh… go through corridor five…"  
419 muttered instructions to herself as she voyaged through the many passageways of the ship.  
"And… then…"  
She stopped suddenly. There, in front of her, was Experiment 626.  
_OK, he's looking the other way… run!_  
419 rushed around the nearest corner.

_Footsteps…_  
Stitch turned around… nothing.

"_Are you sure it was 626?"_  
"Yes, I'm sure," replied 419, for about as many times as experiments preceding her, holding a walkie-talkie to her ear, and trying to walk steadily down the corridor.  
"_And you're sure that there is no other way…"_  
"426…"  
"_OK, alright, just checking…"_  
"Of cause I'm sure! I know this ship like the back of my hand…"  
Abruptly, a gong… noise… thingy… rang through her ears, and 419 saw no more.

Minutes, hours, days passed.  
Lilo waned in and out of consciousness. Her eyes seemed… detached from her brain, seeing when she did not want to, and not when she did. In the brief moments when she was aware of her surroundings, she could only see the mutant zombies.  
"Now, ready to continue the narrative?"  
Lilo glanced upwards. The Queen was back.  
She shook her head.  
"You won't be so defiant for long."  
She paced the room.  
"I reviewed the Queen's decision, and decided that she had chosen a date too late. I settled on an earlier date – 2003, to be precise, a time when humans were less technologically advanced, and thus less susceptible. I sent a sphere.  
But you and your 'experiments' just had to play the hero. Remember the asteroid? It destroyed the sphere, and with it my chance – our chance – of assimilating Earth. I realised that it was essential to terminate you. So I went back to 1999. And that's when things started to go _the right_ way."


	30. Ride To The Other Side

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 30: Ride To The Other Side**

_Borg… hundreds of… too many… Eiffel Tower in pink?_  
"THEY'RE GONNA GET ME!"  
419 sat up. 426 was staring at her like she just escaped from Arkham Asylum.  
"Okaaaay…I'm gonna take two steps back… slowly…"  
"426!"  
"Okay, okay, got it…"  
419 yawned.  
"I knew I shouldn't have had that caviar before… wait, where am I?"  
She looked around. Metal, metal, consol, metal, Stitch, keyb… Stitch?  
"426! Look out, 626's beh…"  
"Yes, I know."  
"And yet, you're not running."  
He sighed.  
"Well, evidently we both heard a dong… gong… thingy… being both naturally suspicious, 626 and me rushed to the scene…"  
"You mean, 626 and I…"  
"This isn't about you!"  
Stitch smacked himself on the forehead. 419 started to repeatedly bang _her_ head against the wall.  
"Oww… oww… oww…"  
"What? What did I say?"  
"Oww… oww… oww… never mind…"  
"If you're sure… anywho… we ran into each other down the corridor, and after a few misunderstandings – I'm not that fluent in Tantalog – we started searching. We found you beside the hot-water cylinder…"  
"Wait… since when does this ship have a hot-water cylinder?"  
"I know… anyways, we dragged you back to Engineering, and… um… that's it."  
"Er… how long since… the gong… thingy?"  
Stitch stepped forward.  
"San tiznet."  
426 looked confused.  
"What does a banana split have to do with…"  
"Three DAYS? I've been out like a light for three DAYS?"  
"Ih."  
"Oooo, I think I'm gonna faint…"

"_Jookiba Log, GDA, Wednesday 18th of November 2374, 6 rotations, 42 cycles.  
They have come. They have seen. They have conquerored.  
The Borg have disabiled our ship, destroy-ed our weapons and taken Little Girl, the kitchen sink, and 47 canned raviolis. We can do nothing but hope. If there is an all-powerful, near omnipotent being out there, please to be watching over Little Girl, and protecting from all harm.  
We are being lost. We are being all alone. We are being 30 thousand light-years from home. I have estimated that life support will only last for two months, then… well, I am not wanting to be thinking about it.  
We are…"_

"Warning: Wor…"  
"Quiet computer, I am trying to finish log! Now, where was I… oh, yes…

_We are being far from…"_

"Warning: Bajoran Wormhole off port bow, 300 km and closing …"  
"Computer, mute. Now…"  
"Er… Jumba, you might wanna come look at these…" mumbled Pleakly, pointing at the console.  
"Look, I am trying to do logging, will everyone just be being quiet!"  
Stunned silence followed this exclamation. (Not so surprising, considering only Pleakly was in the room, and it was rather easy to stun/silence him…)  
"Now… ahem…

_We are being far from any civilisation…"_

BANG. The ship lurched, jiggled and jived to an unknown beat, the beat of the wormhole. Red alerts bleared, windows rattled, and Jumba's glass of cocoa-moo shattered on the floor.  
As suddenly as it had started, it stopped. As the tremors ebbed away, Jumba got to his feet.  
"Oww, my back…"  
"Incoming communication."  
Jumba sighed for the fifth time that day.  
"On screen."  
The holoscreen materialised; on it appeared the face of a thirty-something year old Black-American, wearing some type of uniform – black, apart from the top third, which had been coloured a deep red.  
"This is Benjamin Sisko of the Federation outpost _Deep Space Nine._ We all hope you enjoy your stay here in the Alpha Quadrant."


	31. Asteroids, Wormholes and Holograms

**A/N: **For Christmas this year, I present to ye a new chapter... Mele Kalikimaka!

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
Chapter 31: Asteroids, Wormholes and Holograms**

"Er… 419… what _are_ you doing?"  
"Making calculations," she muttered as she typed at a furious rate on one of the terminals.  
426 stared at her.  
"Making… er… can't you just use a calculator like everyone else?"  
"No, because a) I just do them in my head, and b) I need to access the holographic mainframe."  
"Why?"  
"Because."  
"Because why?"  
419 groaned.  
"Because… well, you'll see in a moment."  
"When?"  
"In a moment!"  
"What?"  
"Now!"  
Millions upon millions of little lights burst into the room. They drifted, spun and twirled, around and around... an interstellar dance, forming slowly a spiral…  
"This is a model of the galaxy now, as estimated by the computer, based on the model… back in the… 'present'."  
"Ooo, pretty…"  
"Yeah…"  
419 tapped a key.  
They were now 'flying' through the giant stellar cloud… through the Orion Nebula, through the Hourglass, past 51 Pegasi, left of Wolf 359… a giant space station loomed, next to a even bigger planet, reddish brown in colour.  
"This is Bajor. No, not that, the planet… orbiting it is Deep Space Nine."  
"And you're showing me this because…"  
"Look closer…"  
426 strained. Nothing looked out of the ordinary; it was just a space station orbiting a planet with a funny red shape thingy in front of it…  
"You mean… that red shape thingy… is us?"  
"Uhuh… we exited the Bajoran wormhole ten minutes ago."  
"How do you know these things?"  
"I, unlike you, watch the computer…"  
"Well, it's boring!"  
"Oh, and I suppose you think death boring too?"  
426 promptly shut up.

"You mean, we are getting caught in gravity-pull of asteroid…"  
"Uhuh…"  
"…which is being one that we are saving blue marble planet from in Earth-year 2003…"  
"Uhuh…."  
"…which essentially is sending us into Gamma Quad of Milky Galaxy…"  
"Uhuh…"  
"…and slingshoting us through Bajoran wormhole?"  
"_Yes_, Jumba."  
"So, my little one-eyed one, you are sure we are only…"  
"Yes, we _are_ that close to Earth!"  
By now Pleakly was almost crushing the spine of _Galactic Federation Ships for Plorgarians_ with frustration.  
"I see… so… you are having vectors?"  
"I'll give _you_ vectors!" shouted Pleakly, throwing the book.  
There are two types of actions: rational and irrational. A rational action, in this case, may be to put the book down and scream into a pillow. An irrational action may be to eat the book, or to throw the book at the nearest evil genius in the room. Screaming into a pillow is rational as screaming often helps irritated, annoyed or otherwise furious people calm down to the point where they can read _The Magician's Nephew_ without tearing it to shreds. However, throwing the book at the nearest evil genius in the room is irrational, because often that evil genius is much larger than you, and therefore can easily tie you into a figure-of-eight knot or half-hitch.  
"Hey... be taking it easy!" replied Jumba, ducking the book, or rather, falling over his feet. "It was just being question…"  
"I'm fed up with you pushing me around! _Pleakly, do this! Pleakly, clean the laundry!_"  
"But you _like_ cleaning laundry…"  
"Not the point! You've treated me like your chew-toy for too long!"  
"I am not treating you like doggie-squeaking-plastic amusement… I do not make you wash the dishes, cook dinner and blow my experiments up! Those are all things you are enjoying! And anyways, you are forgetting one thing…"  
"Er… what's that?"  
"Heh-heh…"  
Jumba stood up to full height (or width, depending on how you see it) and walked up to Pleakly.  
"I am being much bigger than you…"  
"Eep!"

"Now…"  
419 focused the hologram again. Star system after star system flew by... 419 counted each one off. Turo, Alpha and Proxima Centauri, Terran…  
"This is the Earth."  
Centuries had not changed the face of the planet (though this was probably more due to the fact that the computer didn't have an accurate enough texture model). 426, transfixed, started drooling.  
"Er… may I ask you not to slobber on the hologram?" asked 419.  
"Huh… er… oh, sorry…"

"No, not the… not the… _toilet!_"

"Did you hear something?"  
426 shrugged.  
"Sounded like the wail of the Northern Banshee come back from the dead!"  
419 shook her head.  
"Sounds like Pleakly…"  
"Why would _Pleakly_ be screaming?"  
"Elementary, my dear 426… he's afraid of everything."  
"Good point."  
"_Anyway_…"  
She tapped another key.  
The hologram adjusted itself once more. Across hundreds of light-years it zoomed, past stars, planets and asteroids, to the other side of the galaxy…  
"This is the last known position of that… ship thingy," said 419, as a cube-shaped ship appeared, speeding towards its unknown destination.  
"Now, at the speed it's going, and it's current heading…"  
The hologram zoomed out to show the great expanse between them and it.  
"… it will reach Earth within the next 300 years, as shown by the arrow."  
"Well, problem solved!"  
"It's not that easy. See, about three light-years from its current position…"  
What looked like a sinkhole appeared, complete with U-bend pipe.  
"… there's what's known as a 'trans-space conduit' that exits hardly ten light-years from Earth!"  
"And that's bad?"  
"Yes, that's bad."  
Silence.  
"Why is that bad?"  
419 groaned again.


	32. Nineteen Ninety–Nine

**A/N:** Yes, that's right. No, that's not a spelling error. Yes, I do know how to spell "Mertle/Myrtle". No, it has nothing to do with phonetics. No, this chapter isn't confirmation that said spoiled brat isn't behind it. And no, that last sentence wasn't confirmation that she is. And no... well, anyway, read, review and enjoy!

* * *

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 32: Nineteen Ninety-Nine**

"What are you meaning, the docking arm is too big!" exclaimed Jumba, whilst waving his arms around wildly.  
Sisko flinched ever so much.  
"Any chance you're related to Worf?"  
"A Klingon? Is impossible!"  
"You know him?"  
Jumba started sweating slightly  
"Er… not exactly…" he mumbled, swallowing hard in the process.

"Comfy?"  
"Not particularly."  
"Good."  
Lilo was attached to the wall via a rather uncomfortable arm-cuff. Not only that, but she was starting to get an itch in her lower back.  
The Borg Queen scanned Lilo's face. Lilo tried to keep it straight, not yielding any emotion.  
"Nineteen ninety-nine. An interesting year, all things considered. Stuff happening all over the pitiful mudball you call a home. Though I believe it was a rather traumatic year for you, what with your parent's deaths and all…"  
"What has that…" she sniffled a little, "…got to do with anything?"  
"Oh, isn't it obvious? Poor pitiful humans, thinking it was all in the nature of things…"  
And Lilo put two and two together… the nightmares…  
"You were the one I saw!" she blurted out.  
The Queen nodded.  
"Naturally, I didn't expect any survivors, so I didn't bother to be as discreet as I could have been… still; it ended up having an unforeseen effect on your social life, to my advantage… your friends abandoned you and for years you were isolated from your peers, which means they seldom believed your rants about mummies and whatnot. Maybe if they had been more open-minded, one of them wouldn't be here…"  
She paused for a moment, as if to contemplate how life would be like otherwise, before continuing.  
"Anyway, moving right along… in came 2002, and with it, your meeting with Experiment 626."  
"His name is _Stitch,_" Lilo murmured.  
"Well, you and… _Stitch_ did not meet by accident. In fact, when my first plot failed, I enlisted the help of Jumba Jookiba…"  
"Jumba would _never_ help you!"  
"Of cause he wouldn't… willingly. You see, at the last moment, before that instant of creation, I tapped into Jumba's files, did a bit of re-routing… a new subroutine was added… subconsciously, this new code told… _Stitch_ to go to Kaua'i, Hawai'i, and carry out the rest of his programming. Alas, the only flaw was that in my rush, I overlooked a small detail: he was programmed to destroy _large_ cities, i.e. with a population of at least two million, where he'd cause the greatest amount of harm. And, alas - I did not know it at the time - Kaua'i had no such cities. Coupled with his density (and thus his aquaphobia), his destructive power's uselessness, and your unwavering belief in _'ohana_, winning him over… well, was as easy as _one potato, two potato, three potato, four_…  
But then I got lucky. Jumba got bored. He created Experiment 628. But this time, all I added was knowledge, of what we were, and how to find us. Did you know that Jumba programmed him to destroy any and all threats to his existence? I used his pride to my advantage… You see, he knew we were out here, all I needed was that extra bit of overwhelming curiosity, such curiosity as found in your companion… if 626 hadn't have found Jumba's lab, you would not be in this sitch. 628 lured you out here, it was all just a matter of time before I could add the jewel to my crown, so to speak."  
The Queen smiled – an evil, sneering smile – one that almost made Lilo sick to look at it.  
"Now, there's something I've forgotten to tell you… oh yes. How rude of me not to introduce myself all this time! To my… should I say 'friends'? Peeps? Maybe 'posse' is the best way to describe it. Well, to them I'm known as the Borg Queen. But, my real name, before all this, was, and is, Mir…"  
She suddenly stopped, as if she had been struck by some all-inspiring idea, or the answer to world hunger.  
"Trans-warp conduit dead ahead? Prepare coil for entering the event horizon! And..." she stepped back and let three other Borg come to the fore, "... finish the assimilation process of my latest drone... previous name, Lilo Pelikai."

"Could you keep it down! I'm trying to read here!"  
"Soka..."  
"OK, OK, sheesh!"  
419 returned her eyes to the plans before her.  
Boys could be sooo rude! Not to mention loud, obnoxious, gross...  
"...and if we survive, we'll sneak into 419's room and dump a truckload of shaving cream on her!"  
"Ih, yeah!"  
"You know, I can hear every word you're saying!"  
Well, not every word. Only when it reached the decibel level of a jet plane at take off...  
"I've... got to go to... um... the bathroom..."  
"Meega too!"  
"Whatever," mumbled 419, not looking up from the schemata of the _Dakana_.  
As long as, whatever it was, they were out of her hair and far away.  
Ten minutes passed.  
The clock started winding, faster and faster, hands spinning in gaping spirals...  
419 whacked the wall. "Stupid broken clock."  
Suddenly, the ship lurched. The crate 419 was perched upon slowly slid toward the right side of the room.  
"What the..."  
Leaving the blueprints, she walked along the ever-more sloping deck towards the door-side comm. mic with the intention of asking what on Turo was happening.  
She had barely got there before being knocked off her feet and slammed against the opposite wall by sudden thrust.  
_Someone forgot to adjust the inertia dampeners_, she thought as she painfully shook her head.  
"Now, let's try that again..."


	33. Joyriding and Introductions

**A/N:** Yay, another chapter! I've put a little Japanese in this chapter, which is denoted by #. (Please note that the first word in the sentence is Hawaiian, not Japanese; this is for emphasis, 'cause for borrowed words in Japanese, since there is no l, it is usually replaced with r.) So... read and review!

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 33: Joyriding and Introductions**

"ARE YOU CRAZY?" Pleakley half-shouted.  
"Like a Beltarian fitozx!"  
"Yeeha!"

Having finally reached the comm. mic., and hanging on for dear life, 419 dialled in the bridge.  
"What on Turo is happing?"  
To her disdain, Pleakley answered.  
"The little monsters hijacked the ship!"  
Typical boy behaviour.  
"Who are you?"  
"Er… 419! Jumba's experiments, 400 series, failed, long story… what happened to the inertia dampeners? Why are they not on?"  
"I don't know, Jumba usually turns them on!"  
"You don't KNOW?"  
"Look, I'm an Terrantologist, not an engineer!"  
419 groaned.  
"Anyway, he always turns them off when unneeded!"  
"What about Jumba?"  
"What?"  
"What about JUMBA?" 419 almost shouted.  
"Oh… He fainted… or something… his weight's threatening the support beams!"  
"Not funny!"  
"D'ya think I'm laughing?"  
"Where are they going?"  
"426 said something about a trans-space conduit…"  
"Oh no…"

A hand reached for his comm. It then dialled.  
"I'm sorry, the number you are trying to reach is no longer available. Please check your number and try again later."  
"Blitxnak!"  
He pounded his dashboard.  
_OK… calm down…  
_"Operator, connect me to the Grand Councilwoman."  
"Yes?"  
"This is…"  
"You? I thought we agreed that I was to contact you…"  
"But this is an emergency. The safety of the free galaxy, so to speak, may be at risk."

"I want a word with my _younger_ brother."  
"Which one?"  
But someone obviously knew, for 419 heard some rustling, a little scurrying, then…  
"By _two weeks_!" 426 retorted.  
"It's enough… now, tell me, have you lodged one too many coconuts with your head?"  
"Huh?"  
"Hijacking the ship, without backup, low torps, minimal inertia dampeners, and what's more, you're going to face off a cybernetic race that will, to use layman's terms, flatten you utterly and totally, not to mention _destroy _you, and then absorb whatever's left of you, and you have no idea what I'm talking about?"  
"Absolutely none."  
"426, this is not the time for sarcastic remarks!"  
"If not, then what time is it?"  
419 refrained herself from giving him a piece of her mind.  
"It's time _you_ tell _me_ what on _blitxnak_ you _think_ _you're_ _doing_!"  
"Really? Mine says 2:13…"  
"426!"  
"OK, OK… um… rescuing Little Girl?"  
"No wonder 626 seems so happy," 419 said in an undertone. "So… any idea how ya going to do that?"  
"Absolutely none," he repeated. "Isn't it wonderful?"  
"Oy, the things I put up with," 419 muttered.  
Hanging up the comm., she decided to make the most of her time by…  
Her eyes rested on the schemata. Yes, studying the blueprints would help her take her mind off their impending doom.  
She was halfway across the room when the ship suddenly stopped, flinging her face first into the door.  
Some days you just couldn't win.  
Rubbing her head, she looked out the window/porthole/screensaver. Another nebula. Sigh.

_There were lights… a stage… the president of E.G.O.… pressing a button… falling into darkness…  
_"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"  
Jumba sat up. Pleakley was staring at him with a look of trepidation. 426 gave him this really freaky look that told him just how cuckoo he thought he was. 626 looked as if he was caught between pity and hilarity.  
He looked himself over. He was lying in a crumpled heap between the corridor door and bathroom door.  
"What are you staring at?"  
"Well, you w…"  
Pleakley shoved 426's hand in his mouth.  
"You looked terrible… like what you did every night that week, when you had that chicken pox flu thingy…"  
426 coughed something that sounded suspiciously like 'Kila wa nai'.#  
"Oh… well, Qwetians get extremely seaing-sick when inertia dampeners _are not being properly adjusted!_"  
426 swallowed. 626 shrugged. Jumba looked directly at them.  
"I will be having word with you two later. Where is being 419?"  
"She's where she was before…"  
Jumba scratched his chin.  
"And where are being we?"

"Er…"  
426 looked around. Jumba was still watching him.  
"Um… yeah… about that… funny thing, heheh… you've got to laugh…"  
"I am not being in laughing mood."  
426 scratched his right leg with his left foot.  
"Uhuh… you see… we're in… er… the bridge!"  
Jumba's stare intensified.  
"OK, OK, we're in a nebula about three light-years from the space station."  
"I see…"  
"Ahem," coughed a small squeaky voice.  
426 looked over his shoulder. Pleakley was looking rather impatient.  
"I believe some introductions are in order?"  
Jumba turned around.  
"Oh, him? This is being 426, one of my _failed_ experiments."  
_Yeah, ya always have to point that out, don't ya!_ thought 426.  
"You mean he doesn't do anything?"  
"Heh, just like 625."  
"Y'know I'm right here, don't ya?"  
Jumba smirked.  
"Oh, yes, we know, we are just pretending you are not."  
426 growled.


	34. Chicken Scratches

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
Chapter 34: Chicken Scratches**

426 sulkingly trodded out of the elevator and towards 419.  
"Ah, lemme guess, Jumba awoke," 419 said without looking up.  
"Howd'ya know?"  
"Saw it on the screen." She pointed to one of the many terminals in the room. On it was a video stream of the bridge.  
419 retrieved a remote control from behind the schematic, and hit 'rewind', 'play'.  
"_Oh, him? He is being one of my _failed_ experiments…"  
_"_Y'mean he doesn't do anything?"  
_"_Heh, just like 625."  
_"_Y'know I'm right here, don't ya?"  
_"_Oh, yes, we know, we are just pretending you are not."  
_"Why do you let him do that?" continued 419. "Sometimes I just want to take his big dummy… dumb head and… nrumf…nyhhh…"  
She imitated squashing Jumba's head on the palm of her hand.  
"Calm down, 419. I've got a plan."  
"Oh, no."  
"Give me those schematics…"  
"OK, fine…"  
Silence ensured as 426 poured over the complex diagrams.  
"419?"  
"Yes?"  
"I can't read this. It looks like chicken scratches to meh."  
419 slapped her forehead.

"Computer, lock down access to following areas: enginkeering, shuttle bay, battle bridge."

Pleakley explored the chambers of the ship, as the lights had still not been restored on the bridge and corridors of Deck 1.  
"Lets see…"  
A loud clank disturbed Pleakley. He turned around to see that he had tripped over a large box.  
"The things Jumba leaves lying around," he muttered as he proceeded to try and lift it.  
"This thing must weigh _a hundred tons!_" he yelled as he heaved it up to a shelf where he presumed it must go.  
As he slid it in place, he heard a rattle.  
A watering can. Strange. That hadn't been there before.  
Then he heard a muffled shout.  
"Limpf!"  
Now, as Pleakley didn't believe in ghosties, ghoulies, long legged beasties, _or _things that went bump in the night (as that thing was usually one of Jumba's experiments), he did something any self-respecting citizen would have done.  
He screamed his lungs out.  
"Pleakley?"  
The thing had said his name. He was sure of it. The thing _knew_ his name…  
He screamed some more.  
Then he ran to the nearest mic padd and dialled the bridge.

"Vat is it?"  
Jumba heard a barely audible squeak at the other end. _Pleakley_.  
"Er… there's a… _thing_… somewhere… IthinkitsinthegrainstoragebutI'mnotsureandcanyou _pleeease_ help me!"  
Jumba stood there, trying to process what Pleakley had just said.  
"What… oh… er… well, there is being access point in bridge… please to be coming up here…"

"Reflexes… OK."  
The Queen checked another thing off her mental checklist.  
"Let's see… OK, you're fit to go. Assist the assimilation process."  
"Affirmative" came the reply, and off the drone went.  
"Now… Phase Two is almost complete."  
She noticed someone enter the room.  
"Hello. You're early."  
The humanoid in the shadows shrugged. The Queen stopped pacing.  
"I see. Well, I have a feeling our _friends_ will be along soon. You better prepare."  
The being nodded and walked out.


	35. The Other Resistance Futilian

**A/N**: Hello, 'tis meh again. I finally got teh chapter uploaded! (Finished it two weeks ago...) Noticed there were no reviews on the last... just on the off chance that you want to make me happy, you can tell meh what you thought of the last chapter, as well as this one... well, read, review and enjoy!

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 35: The _Other_ Resistance Futilian**

"Er… hello?"  
Pleakley led the way to the grain storage bin, jerking the flashlight as he shivered uncontrollably.  
Jumba followed behind down the narrow hallway, knowing that it was better for Pleakley to go first if whatever it was wasn't in the mood for visitors.  
"Hrup!"  
Pleakley jumped behind Jumba.  
"W-w-who's th-there?" he stammered, slowly protruding his head from behind Jumba.  
Maybe, Jumba reflected, it did not matter who went first, as Pleakley would always be too chicken to stay in the lead.  
Pleakley slowly walked forward.  
"Te mi, Namhi!"  
This time Pleakley did not jump, however he did step back a little.  
Before him was the vast storehouse, with its grain, wheat and flour. Pleakley's jaw dropped at the sight of it.  
"H-how are w-w-we g-g-gonna see anything in h-here?" asked Pleakley.  
"'Tis simple," replied Jumba, grinning with evil geniousness. "We simply turn on lights."  
He flicked a switch.  
Nothing happened.  
"Arh, must be blowned fuse! Oh vell, we just listen to voice!"  
He cleared his throat.  
"Ahem… Hello? We are coming in pea…"  
"Gamda? Hrup!"  
Jumba slowly took out his plasma gun.  
"Who are you? Where are you being? I am warning you – I am being armed!"  
"Numi! Luft muh oht!"  
He grabbed the torch off Pleakley and shone it in the direction of the secondary holds. Nothing there.  
He side-stepped along the walls and pressed the button to the holds. He then turned around, pointing the gun towards whomever was inside.  
"Jumba, what do you _THINK_ you're doing?"  
"Older girl!"

Lilo slipped in and out of consciousness. She was aware of drilling in her skull, but could not feel anything. In the rush of images that occasionally met her eyes, she saw mutant cyborg zombie: some looking into her eyes; some fitting techno-thingies on her wrists, arms, legs and face; some talking to the Queen as she visited the Chamber every now and then. Sometimes she would stare at the Queen, wondering what she could possibly have in store for her and trying to fathom the reason she had been chosen, sometimes she would just think about the answer to life, the universe and everything, which she figured out to be 42. Sometimes she would just lie there, not doing anything. Every now and then, she'd think someway, some how, Jumba, Pleakley and Stitch would come through for her, pull off some sort of rescue.  
Stitch… she hadn't had the chance to say goodbye…  
She sank into another bout of dreamless sleep.

"…and so this corridor from the bridge leads to the grain-storage," 419 concluded.  
426 sat attentively, watching 419 draw on the SmartBoard as she explained the various areas of the ship.  
"Got it?"  
426 flipped through his notes.  
"Yeah… I think I've got it all…"  
"Good, 'cause I think my lower jaw's cramping up."  
She sat back down on the crate.  
Five seconds later she asked, "426, what exactly are you planning to do?"  
"Oh, just a little 'Capture the Flag' with those… Borg… thingies…"  
Realisation dawned over her face. She smiled.  
"You're going to try and rescue Little Girl! Again," she added.  
"Well… yeah, pretty much…"  
"I suppose 626 knows about this…"  
"Got him on walkie talkie! He heard the better part of your speech… or lecture, more like."  
419 thought for a moment.  
"What about Pleakley and Jumba…"  
"Pleakley heard a _spooky_ noise in the storage bins," said 426, waving his arms around to emphasise the point. "Him and Jumba are going to check it out."  
"Lemme guess: 626 told you."  
"Yep…"  
"So… how ya gonna get _on_ the ship… no, wait, don't tell me: you're gonna hijack the shuttle."  
"Well, actually I was going to reconfigure Jumba's food dispenser to rip my atoms apart and reassemble them on the cube-ship, but your idea sounds much better."  
"Y'know, Jumba's probably locked down access from here and to all major areas of the ship…"  
"Which is why we use the air vents!"  
419 sighed.  
"What? It works in all the movies!"  
"Number one: you've never seen a movie in your life, save the ones Jumba lets you watch on his ship. And that's pretty much limited to Japanese anime by Studio Ghibli…"  
"Hey, I liked _My Neighbour Totoro_!" said 426 as he climbed a stack of crates towards the vent.  
"Second," 419 continued, "you'd think Jumba would be smart enough to…"  
A clanging noise interrupted 419, signalling that 426 had prised open the vent with a metal rod, dropped both cover and rod, and was now proceeding to craw through.  
419 groaned as she also climbed the crates, muttering "I have a _reeeeally_ bad feeling about this…"


	36. Spider Issues

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 36: Spider Issues**

Experiment 426 climbed up the cramped, dirty, dusty and dead-insect ridden shaft, followed at a distance by 419.  
"C'mon, hurry up!" yelled 426, his voice echoing through the vast network of air vents surrounding him.  
"Do we… _have_ to do this?" asked 419 as she squirmed around a particularly large Selwinian Juwap, being careful not to step in the drool still drip-dropping from its mouth.  
"Of cause! You want to rescue Little Girl, don't you?"  
"Well, yes, but… there's _deceased rodents_ in here! And the chances are it has _spiders_!"  
426 stopped.  
"So?" he asked, half-mockingly, half-teasingly.  
419 put on her 'this-is-not-funny-this-is-serious-and-you-know-darn-well-why-not' face.  
"Oh, yeah, your _arachnophobia_… they're just shaggy slimy venomous insects with razor-sharp pincers, hairy-hairy bodies and eight eyes all round, 'tis all…"  
"Oh yeah, sure, you may laugh _now_, but when it's you trapped in a overly sticky mesh with a giant slimy drooling tarantula clicking his goop-covered pincers at you as he moves in for the kill, we'll see who has the last laugh…"  
"You've been watching too much _Earth vs. The Spider_ again, haven't you?" replied 426, and continued his upwards clamber.

"Where are we and where's Lilo?" asked Nani as the trio traversed the trunk.  
Jumba scratched his head.  
"Er… OK, will be telling Older Girl all and everything."  
He turned to Pleakley.  
"You tell her."  
"And what if I don't?" replied Pleakley, folding his arms.  
"Well, if you don't, I am still having plans for eye-poking experiment, heh heh…"  
Pleakley stopped.  
"What now?"  
"We're back at the bridge."  
"Oh."  
Jumba looked about.  
"Er… where is 626?"

Stitch scrambled down the tube, moving in the opposite direction as the two experiments below. Negotiating the chunky channels, slimy shafts and treacherous tunnels of the ventilation system may have been a daunting demeanour for anyone else, but 626 did, after all, have a brain that could think faster than a supercomputer. And besides, this was for Lilo, his lifelong friend and companion; he would trek and tumble through the vents even _if_ he didn't have any physical or mental advantages, just to rescue her.  
He wiped his brow and started to hum "Megota Questa" as he continued towards the shuttlebay.

"Where'ya been?" asked 625, stuffing his mouth with pastrami-on-rye.  
Gantu grumpily grumbled as he grunted acknowledgment.  
"None of your business. Now…"  
"Hold it, you've got another call from Hamsterviel…"  
Gantu sighed as he sat down in his twirly chair. 625 turned on the transmission.  
"Where have you _been_!" yelled Hamsterviel.  
"Er… it's not important…"  
"_I_, not you, vill be the one to determine if it's not important!"  
Gantu's gerbil-like boss sat back in his floaty chair and resumed talking with a normal (for him) non-shouty voice.  
"Now, the prison computer detected that an unknown experiment flying a red police cruiser passed by a few hours ago, followed closely by a Galactic Federation ship containing three experiments, two humans, a Qweltian and a Plorgarian!"  
"_Three_ experiments, sir?"  
"Vhell, they probably caught two others _before hand!_ It is your job to grab them, _understand?_"  
"Yes sir, right away!"  
Hamsterviel disappeared off the screen.  
625 swallowed his sandwich.  
"Well, I guess you'll be leaving me to 'defend the fort', eh Fishface?"  
"Actually, you're coming with me."  
"May I ask why?"  
"I'll tell you later. 624!"  
A pink experiment, resembling a female version of Stitch with longer antennae, walked in.  
"Gaba?"  
"Look after this place until I get back. And please, no parties, I still haven't been able to scrape that pizza stain from the rug…"  
624 nodded.  
"Good. Now, 625, come… we need to rent a cruiser…"


	37. Nani and the Toaster

**A/N:** I'm back! To make up for my absence, I've done _two_ chapters, the second of which will be uploaded in two days.

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 37: Nani and the Toaster**

"Computer, locate Experiment 626," requested Jumba as Nani tapped her foot in impatience.  
Suddenly, he heard a sort of scrambling noise below him.  
"Ah, he must be in vents!" he exclaimed.  
As if on cue, the computer beeped.  
"Experiment 626 is in the ventilation system," it droned pointlessly.  
Jumba scratched his chin.  
"I wonder what he's doing there…"  
"Wait, so this computer can locate people?" asked Nani.  
"Well, yes, but only if they are on the ship…"  
"Computer, locate Lilo Pel…"  
"Cancel!"  
Nani raised her eyebrow.  
"Jumba…"  
"Oh, have you noticed the weather? Has been rather damp lately…"  
Pleakley, getting the idea, joined in.  
"Yeah… though the nights have been a little… er… dark?"  
"Jumba, what is going on?"  
"What is going on… why… nothing!" replied Jumba, a little too overenthusiastically. "We were just… er…"  
"…playing hide and seek!" said Pleakley, finishing his sentence. "I'm counting…"  
"Pleakley! This isn't working!" hissed Jumba behind his back as Nani placed her hands on her hips.  
"OK, go with plan B," whispered Pleakley.  
"Which is?  
"Making it up as you go!"  
"Oh."  
Jumba turned back to Nani.  
"OK, we'll take you to Lilo," he said crestfallenly, winking to Pleakley.  
Pleakley mouthed 'What are you going to do?'.  
Jumba did not reply, and instead showed Nani through a door to the left.  
"Er… she's in a broom closet?"  
"Bye!"  
And with that, he pushed a button.  
The door slammed shut.  
Jumba rushed through the room, grabbed Pleakley's hand, and rushed out of the bridge.  
"We have to find 626!" he muttered to Pleakley hurriedly.  
"I can _not_ believe you did that to Nani!" Pleakley scolded.  
"She was getting annoying! I had to do _something_!"  
"But lock her in a _closet_? Why not something less subtle, like, oh, I dunno, a _stun ray_?"  
"Well, I didn't think of that! Besides, the toaster will do that anyway!"  
"You put a stun ray in a _toaster_?"  
"No, but it _was_ sitting precariously on the shelf…"  
Pleakley winced.

About three hundred meters away and two meters up, 426 stopped.  
"Hey, 419, this is the place, isn't it?"  
When 419 didn't respond, 426 glanced behind him.  
She was about a meter down the vent. She was covered from head to toe in some sort of slime. Despite it being forty degrees above zero, 419 was shivering from head to toe. Strands of cobweb was hanging from her hair and fur, and her glasses were completely opaque.  
"May I ask, and excuse me if I sound a little crazy, but… _what_ on Qwelta Du happened to _you_?"  
419 gave a little smile.  
"I ran into someone… some_thing_ along the way… and it… glooped me."  
"Ah, I see…" said 426, snickering. "So, is this the place?"  
"Yush, the shuttle bay should be right below…"  
"Cool."  
Silence.  
"So… now what?"  
419 wiped some of the slime from her glasses.  
"We get in."  
"But how?" asked 426 tentatively.  
419 pulled out what looked like a small tube with a button at one end and some type of leans at the other.  
"Handheld laser scalpel," she explained as she cut away at the bars of the vent.

Meanwhile, Jumba was trying to find where exactly Stitch was. To do this, he pulled out the mightiest of all tools in his arsenal of technology – a doctor's stethoscope.  
Pleakley put his hands on his hips.  
"Don't you have some kind of… like… locator thingy? Or an x-ray… thingy?"  
"Well, locator on computer is imprecise, only says which area one is in, not where in area one is, and advanced locator I am working on only has thirty-two percent chance of working."  
"Would the other sixty-eight percent involve the ship blowing up in some way?"  
"Well, actually… yes."  
"I see. So… you have to listen for him?"  
"Yes, now shush!"  
Pleakley shushed.  
Jumba pressed the stethoscope to the wall, listening hard for any sounds whatsoever.  
"Er… the toaster seems to have worked, 'cause I don't hear Nani…"  
"Jumba!"  
"Okay, okay… well… that's funny…"  
"What?"  
"I could swear I can hear a series 5 laser scalpel…"  
"How'd ya know?"  
"Well, I had to also take a doctorate in doctoring to complete my studies… you see, I needed 10 extra credits for my TQA… but that's not important."  
"TQA?"  
"Turo Qualifications Accredited… now zip it!"  
Pleakley zipped it.  
"The scalpel's stopped… I hear scrambling… two bodies… climbing into… the shuttlebay! Let's go!"  
Jumba rushed off. Pleakley watched him plod down the hallway.  
"Okay," he said, jogging down the corridor after him, "I'm going, but I don't know why…"


	38. Shuttle Serenity

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay, but I was downloading Windows Vista and the download window was only open for a limited time... BTW, 'Round The Bays is a annual community race thingy where several thousand people jog/run/walk/pant down the motorway from North Shore to Auckland CBD.

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 38: Shuttle Serenity**

"OK… nearly there… no, the other leg… that's right…"  
"I'm down!" shouted 426 from the roof of the shuttle.  
"K, my turn!" replied 419, and with that she jumped through the hole in the vent.  
"What does this say?" asked 426 as he slid down the shuttle's outside.  
419 landed with a plump and pushed her glasses up her nose.  
"I'm not sure, but I think it means 'the ship with a door'," she replied, helping herself off the ground.  
426 looked at the hole in the vent.  
"Shouldn't 626 be here?" he asked.  
As if on cue, the shuttlebay doors burst open.  
In rushed Jumba, plasma blaster in hand; following him was Pleakley, panting as if he had just run 'Round The Bays.  
"Er… hi, Dr J," greeted 426.  
Jumba gave the two experiments a puzzled look.  
"419? 426? What are you doing here? Where is 626?"  
419 and 426 exchanged glances.  
"Er… well… we were just…"  
"626 is… um…"  
"Meega nala queesta!"  
419 stepped backwards as 626 fell face-first onto the floor.  
"Hey, 626, ya made it!" said 426 excitedly.  
"426!" snapped 419.  
"What?" quizzed 426.  
"Never mind…"

"Teresa Bamez? You seem to be in perfect health, you're free to go."  
Teresa thanked the EMH and exited the sick bay.  
She tapped her comm. badge.  
"Hey, Vi!"  
"Teresa?" asked Jameston through her comm. badge. "How are you?"  
"Fine, fine," replied Teresa. "The doctor just gave me a clean bill of health."  
"That's excellent! Y'know, ops has been lookin' kinda empty since you've been in sick bay… how about, on your break, you and I have lunch together in Ten-Forward?"  
"That'd be great!"  
"Well, I'll see ya there. Jameston out."  
Teresa smiled to herself as she strolled down the corridor towards the bridge.

On the bridge, Ming had just finished tapping out her report, and was handing it to Jameston.  
"It's all here… and if you check screen 42, there's some supplementary…"  
"You had something else to report?"  
"Oh, yes… we're nearing the end of the conduit."  
"Ah… yes, good. Well, tell all decks to stand by, we may have a rather bumpy ride on our hands…"  
"Yes ma'am," said Ming monotonously as she slowly turned to tell comm. what to do.  
"Oh, and Ming?"  
"Yes?"  
"Bamez and I are having lunch on Ten-Forward in our break, it'd mean the world if you and Malo could join us."  
"Yes, ma'am!" she replied cheerfully.

"…and then we took the ventilation system to here," explained 419 to Jumba.  
"Why'd ya come here?" asked Pleakley.  
"To steal a shuttle and rescue Little Girl," squeaked 426 in a high-pitched excessively innocent voice.  
"Jumba… I think he means Lilo," whispered Pleakley to Jumba. "They've been hanging 'round you too long…"  
"So," continued Jumba sternly, ignoring Pleakley, "you thought you could sneak here, steal highly experimental shuttle, defeat Borg, and rescue Little Girl?"  
"Yes, exactly!" replied the three experiments together.  
"Then… what are you waiting for? We should be getting in shuttle!"  
"Wha'?"  
"Whell, you want to be helping Little Girl, no?"  
"Er… yeah," stammered 426, "but we… ow! (419 had elbowed him) OK, _I_ thought you would say no, so we… ha, ya missed… oomph! _I_ made up a plan, and she thought you'd be all 'blah blah disappointed' if we were caught, but she came anyway, and… ya."  
"Er… no. We were just a little… preoccupied. Isn't that right, _Pleakley_?"  
"Oh, sure, turns out that _Nani_'s on board and when she wakes up she's gonna _skin us alive_!"  
"Wakes up?" enquired 419.  
"Well, she had… er, shall we say, a little run in with a toaster," explained Jumba tentatively.  
"You knocked her out with a toaster?" asked 426.  
"Yes, but that's not important. What is important is that 426, you don't accidentally open the air locks like in the simulation!"  
"It was an honest mistake!" said 426. "How was I supposed to know that the big red button wasn't the MP3 player's ON switch?"  
"Because, I had about five '_do not touch_' signs pointing at it! Besides, you should know, never _ever_ push the red button!"  
"OK, OK, no touchy the button, I get it!"  
Jumba glanced around the room. Pleakley was gnawing throughh is fingernails. 426 looked bored. 419 was writing something in her pad. He wondered what it might be, then wondered if anyone was going to break the silence.  
He decided he would.  
"Okay… let us be, how you say, getting show on road!"


	39. Controls

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 39: Controls**

At that moment, the shaking began.  
When it stopped, and everyone had righted themselves, groaning whilst rubbing their heads, it could be determined that another ship was in close proximity and had fired on them.  
"The Borg must have found us," muttered Jumba hoarsely as he made for the exit.  
"Hey," called 426, "where are you going?"  
"Well, 'tis my ship, and I won't let it sink without a fight. Besides, you know what they say, the captain always goes down with his vessel."  
"I'm coming with you," said Pleakley, a determined look on his face.  
"Okay, 419, you know what you are doing? Good. Either way this goes, we'll be still watching out for you. Good luck."  
Jumba (sorta) ran out of the room, with Pleakley trailing behind.

"Hey, 419, there's a microphone in here."  
"So?"  
"We could do final messages, just in case we don't make it, like on TV!" exclaimed 426, pointing at said microphone.  
"This isn't fiction, 426."  
426 looked like he wanted to respond, but contented himself with folding his arms.  
"Besides, why do you want to do final messages? It's so… depressing."  
"Er… no reason."  
419 raised her eyebrow.  
"Something in particular you want to say?"  
"Well… er… um… I mean, no!"  
"Whatever."  
She walked up to a panel with lots of lights and buttons at the front of the small craft.  
"You take that control."  
"Which one?"  
"The propulsion systems and auxiliary aft-and-for photonic…"  
Blankness filled 426's face.  
"The shooty weapony thingy. The engines as well."  
"Oh…"  
"Now…"  
"What about 626?"  
419 looked back. Stitch had been idly sitting in the back of the craft, unnoticed by anyone.  
"626! Er… you can take tactical, ops and engineering."  
"Ih."  
"Now, I'll seal the airlock, and on my mark, pull forward on the lever slowly."  
419 pressed a button.  
A loud clunking sound signalled the closure of the air-lock, while a "pshhh-nheeah" sound represented the escape of air as the launch bay doors opened.  
"Okay, ready?" shouted 419 over the "nheeah" of the opening door.  
"Almost got it…"  
"…eeeah-put."  
"426, now!"  
426 swallowed hard and pulled down on the lever.  
The shuttle zoomed out of the doors as if they had been merely a rock in a shotput whom's wielder had drawn it as far as it would go, then had let it go and watched as it flew through the air aimlessly.  
"Expla sepa!" yelled 626.  
"Chocolate? At this time?"  
"No, you're going too fast!"  
"Oh!"  
426 pulled the lever back up.  
They stopped dead.  
"OK, I think 626 should take over the controls. 419, tactical, ops and…"  
"Huh?"  
419 sighed.  
"The screen thingy which tells you stuff."  
"Oh…"

"Status report."  
The Queen. Five of Twelve turned to face her.  
"The assimilation process is almost complete. She will be as we are."  
"Good."  
"Affirmative," replied the drone, and resumed its work.

The Queen strode out of the assimilation chamber, intently gazing forward. As she went, drones of every description walked past in the opposite direction, performing various tasks, be it maintenance, configuration or processing. Alcove upon alcove she saw; some were empty, others were being repaired, and still others contained other drones, charging themselves as to be at optimum efficiency when they awaken.  
She stopped, as if temporarily indecisive of which direction to take, but no matter, for the next moment she was speeding down another corridor, and then another.

Footsteps.  
The being stayed in the shadows, in case it was the little girls' friends.  
He breathed a sigh of relief when the Queen entered the room.  
"They have arrived," she told him. "You are prepared, correct?"  
He nodded.  
"Good. You know what to do."

Leaving the chamber, the meld of flesh and machine retraced her steps, determined not to stop for anything.  
But then she paused, as if she had seen something that reminded her of a distant memory. She walked back slowly, staring at the wall as she did.  
A disused transportation circuit. Beside it lay a small stuffed penguin.  
She picked it up.  
_Hmm, that transporter should be repaired,_ she thought, continuing on her way.


	40. The Way Aboard

**A/N:** A splonk is, basically, a goo creature. It can fit through just about any crack in existance, hence the expression. Splonks make good pets, and many a splonk can be sighted on Galactic Federation planets.

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 40: The Way Aboard**

"We need to find an opening of some kind," murmered 419, mainly to herself, as she examined the screen in front of her.  
"Gotcha, one exhaust pipe coming up," 426 peppery replied, tapping in the data. "626, can you keep an eye on the cube thingy?"  
"Ih," 626 answered, adjusting the thrusters a bit.  
"Cool, so if anyone needs me, I'll be playing paddleboard..."  
419 looked at him sternly.  
"What? It's probably going to take forev..."  
"5,550,198,293,434 matches found."  
Smiling smugly, 419 folded her arms.  
"All right, all right… lemme guess, ninety-nine percent of those couldn't fit a splonk through them," 426 muttered as he hurriedly tapped in the size specifications.  
"No matches found. Did you mean 'Atlantis'?"  
"Er... you added an extra zero," informed 419, pointing at his screen.  
"Oh."

Now, some empty hallways are named so because of a lack of objects contained within, such as furnishings, drawers, and pictures of Auntie Cay. But others are called 'empty' not because they are actually devoid of anything at all, but just because of the lack of any sentient life, or, in some instances, any life whatsoever. This particular hallway was of the latter type, containing within several objects, such as a large LCD screen, a smaller screen with console, and a sign pointing to engineering, but, at this time, no life. That isn't to say it never had life, such as when Jumba began construction on it, when he tested it for the first time, and when it broke under his weight. More recently, it had herded various beings towards the lower decks, some of which strolled merrily whilst humming tunes that, had this hallway auditory apparati, would have detested grossly.  
Some empty hallways even have names, such as HTD5878, N82, or James. The one mentioned above did indeed have a name, A12. Mind you, it was a rather boring name, and, had it been sentient, the hallway would have had it legally changed the first time it heard it (assuming, of cause, it had auditory apparati).  
Little did this humble hallway know that it was about to cease to exist.

"Bwarp! Bwarp! Bwarp!" blared the Red Alert alarm.  
"There's been a hull breach!" Pleakley informed Jumba. "Deck 3 Corridor A12."  
Jumba started typing. "I am now adjusting shields to compen…"  
"Warning: Hull breach," the computer read, seemingly oblivious to their awareness of the situation. "Deck 3 Corridor A12. Recompression failure. Recommended cause of action: increase shield integrity around affected area."  
Jumba sighed and continued to type.

"Hey, 419!" shouted 426.  
"What?" called 419 back.  
"They're shooting weird green ray thingys…"  
"Just keep looking."  
"Ah, found it! A small conveniently-placed cargo bay-like opening about twelve degrees down and to the right of our position."  
"I don't like the sound of that," said 419.  
426 shrugged. "Hey, what could possibly go wrong?"  
"I'm just saying, it doesn't bode well," replied 419. "OK, 626, steer us towards the aperture."

"Y'know," 419 muttered, three minutes later, "after all the television you've watched, you'd think you know that whenever _anyone_ says 'what can possibly go wrong', things _always_ go wrong."  
They were glued to the floor, rigidly swaying on their feet about a metre outside the craft; all the while three Borg drones were menacingly advancing on their position.  
"You will be assimilated," they mandated in unison. "Your technological…"  
"OK," said 426, "I know exactly what to do."  
"…be added to our own. Your culture will…"  
"Oh yeah?"  
"…to service ours. Resistance is _futile!_"  
"Yeah."  
426 stared at the drones with determination, eyes fixated on their twitching claw-like appendages.  
"RUUUN!"  
426 grabbed 419's hand and pulled her towards a passageway leading to what appeared to be a corridor. Wherever it led, it was at least not here, and so with this reasoning in mind, 419 and 426 rushed as fast as they could towards it.

Alerted by 426's shout, Stitch ran to the exit of the ship.  
Drones. Oh goody.  
Firing up the engines, Stitch took the controls of the ship and guided it 'round the hold, forcing the drones to duck every now and then for fear of decapitation. Setting one in his sights, he triggered the shuttle's plasma cannons.  
Alas, they did not fire.  
Annoyed and dismayed, he tried again.  
Stupid cannons.  
As the shuttle was no longer of any use to him (except for maybe playing a few rounds of "Ten-Drone Bowling"), and as it was about to hit a barrier of vast height, with great haste did Stitch evacuate the craft, not knowing or caring where he would land.

As it so happened, Stitch landed on top of one of the drone's heads, who, understandably, wasn't too happy about it; in fact he tried to grab the small blue being that was obscuring his visual cortex and increasing body load by 17.4 percent. Stitch was too quick; he seized the arm and pulled it out of its socket, then started slapping the drone with its own mechanical hand. It was only when the drone decided that enough was enough and he might as well assimilate the strange entity that was on top of him that Stitch leaped off his head and hurried to the nearest exit.


	41. Barge of the Barely Alive

**A/N:** I'd just like to quickly point out that 419 and 426 do not actually know about the Borg. Sorry 'bout that error last chapter...

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 41: Barge of the Barely Alive**

"This is creepy."  
419 and 426 were wandering along one of many corridors on the cube-shaped ship. Row upon row of niches lined the right-hand wall; in some of these stood silent zombie-faced huminoids, each similar in appearance to the one they had encountered on Jumba's ship, and each paying absolutely no attention to the two experiments walking in front of them.  
419 stopped to examine one.  
"I believe they are in some form of hibernation," she analysed, closely looking at one of its hands. On the top of the wrist were small openings; protruding from them were the beginnings of some kind of tube.  
"Well… we should get outta here before one of them wakes up," said 426 nervously.  
419 frowned slightly.  
"What?"  
"Oh, I'm just wonder…"  
What sounded like a hydraulics system in operation approaching them interrupted 419's sentence; the two turned around and saw another of the zombie-creatures.  
"What do ya think they'll do to us?" whispered 426.  
"If they're anything like the Daleks, they'll ex-TER-mi-nate first and ask questions later," 419 breathed back.  
The drone, however, walked passed them as if they were not there.  
"Could someone tell me what just happened?" 426 implored.  
"While I too feel your perplexity," said 419, starting to walk again, "I think it would be better if we just continued on before they catch on to us."  
"Good call," 426 replied, following her lead.  
"Y'know," 419 continued, now examining the steel railings keeping them from falling several feet, "I would have expected them to have swarmed the corridors."  
"I know, that was like the Battle for Sterling Bridge on easy with complete visibility," agreed 426.  
419 gave him a funny look.  
"What? I dabble in _Age of Monarchs_ every now and then."  
After a few moments of wearing what 419 supposed was intended to be a thoughtful expression, 426 spoke up again.  
"Maybe they don't see us as a threat."  
"Interesting theory," said 419, "care to elaborate?"  
"OK, so it's like this," 426 said enthusiastically, for it was so rare for his sister to ask him to elaborate on anything, "we're like ants, and these… thingies are those dudes with the magnifying glasses. Most of the time they're like, 'ants, eh, whatever.' But if they feel really bored, or if we bite them, they take out their glass, place it between us and the sun, and wait, all the while muttering 'burn, _buuurn_' under their breath."  
419 thought about this for a bit.  
"OK, first, I understood that, and because of that I'm _really_ scared." She shivered to emphasize the point, prompting an "I know" from 426. "But second, what do we do when they… er… 'pull out their magnifying glasses'?"  
"That's easy, we do what any ant would do."  
"Run like mad?"  
"Exactly."

"Status report, Ming."  
"Well, we've reached the end of the conduit," Ming replied, dutifully, to her captain's request.  
"Excellent! Now, max power to forward shields, ahead at full impulse," Jameston instructed excitedly. Anything could be on the other side of the threshold.  
Various beeping noises intermingled with Malo's "aye!" as she rapidly pressed several buttons atop a black console situated in front of her. Slowly, the ship began to move forward.  
Jameston watched the ship's progress on the main viewscreen, watched the vibrant blue event horizon coming closer and closer, the brilliant lights of the ship shimmering off its smooth surface.  
And then they were in it.  
For a split second, it was like gliding through a sea of toothpaste, cutting through it like a phaser through titanium. But soon that split second was up, and the familiarity of space, stars and stuff surrounded the _Serenity_.  
Jameston sighed, placing her chin upon one of her palms; slumping down in her chair, she asked Ming where they were.  
"Er… you won't believe it, but… let me double-check… well, I don't know if I'm seeing things, but the sensors all tell me the same thing – we're in Sector 001… we're home."  
Jameston's jaw dropped several meters.  
"Are… are you sure?" she asked, eyes lighting up at the thoughts of finally seeing Earth, of seeing her friends…  
And her mother, so uneager to adapt into the new world that had been thrust upon them. She'd probably blame her absence on some new-fangled technology. _"If we had just stayed put… but no, you had to experiment…"  
_Shaking these thoughts from her mind, she reminded herself that somewhere out there was a Borg cube heading straight for the planet, ready to consume it, devour it as a spider would devour a big, juicy fly.  
She opened her mouth to say something, but Ming beat her to it.  
"I'm picking up a Borg cube on long-range scanners," she informed her, answering her unasked question.  
"OK, Malo, you've got the co-ordinates? Good, head towards it, maximum warp. Ming, broadcast a Priority One warning, inform all ships in the area about the threat."  
Her expression was one of determination. She thought of all the people that had been destroyed, or assimilated, for the Borg's goal of total conquest, and promised herself that she, at least, would not let this ship do the same.  
"Engage," she instructed, staring at the cold white location indicator, and willing it to disappear forever.


	42. Drone

**A/N:** My apologies for being so late with this! It's just that lately I haven't had much time to work on... well, anything. Ah well.

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 42: Drone**

"Y'mind telling me what's going on?" asked 625, visibly upset despite the fact that he was obscured by a rather large sandwich, upon which he was dumping generous amounts of mayonnaise.  
"We've… er… well, we've got to catch up with the little girl," replied Gantu, tapping in some co-ordinates with his hefty fingers.  
"Yeah, but why ya gotta drag me along? I was going for the world record in sandwich stacking!"  
"Er… I thought you'd be useful…" Gantu started to stammer, but 625 interrupted him.  
"Useful? You said it yourself, fishface: all I do is eat, sleep and make sandwiches!"  
"I didn't mean it like that…."  
"Whatever," muttered 625, topping his sandwich with a slice of wholemeal bread.  
Nothing but silence passed between them for a few moments as Gantu monitored the ships' status.  
"Er, 625?"  
625 did not reply; whether it was out of annoyance or because he was now stuffing the sandwich in his mouth was not obvious.  
"Do you play… any type of instrument?"  
His ears lifted; otherwise, there was no acknowledgement of what Gantu had said.  
"It's just…" Gantu hesitated, then sighed. "I've had a offer for a band, drums, you know, as a side thing, and they need a saxophone player."  
"Sax, eh?"  
625 gulped the remnants of his meal, then, standing to full height, surveyed Gantu's expression.  
"Sounds interesting… perhaps I could give it a go."

"Lilo, it's time to wake up now…"  
Lilo blinked. For a miniscule moment she thought that it had all been a dream and she'd open her eyes to see the bright sunshine of Hawai'i… and then she saw the many-layered floors reaching above her to infinity.  
This was really happening to her.  
She tried to lift her arm. It would not budge, despite not being held down by any force.  
And then Lilo saw the Queen.  
"What do you want?" she half-shouted at her, wanting her words to pierce her soul, her cold, uncaring heart…  
"Why, Lilo," the Queen replied, "what a temper! Is this any way to treat an old friend?"  
"You were never my friend," Lilo told her.  
"Why can't we be? I simply come here to offer you a chance to retain your free will. Join me willingly, and we can rule as sisters."  
Sisters. To Lilo, the way the Queen said it felt like a bad taste, only to the ears instead.  
"I will _never_ join you."  
Lilo almost whispered these words, in the lowest voice she could muster, but with the most conviction one could put in a single statement. The Queen frowned, and when she next spoke, her voice was riddled with disappointment.  
"I'm really sorry to hear that. I would have hoped… but none of that matters now."  
The Queen swooped down on the table holding Lilo prisoner; she tried squirming around but her body remained stationary; she could feel her breath in her face…  
"You belong to me."  
"No… _no_…"  
Smiling a deadly evil smile, the Queen whispered back:  
"Drone, activate."

Two words.  
Now, we, as humans, may think two simple words would be insignificant. Chances are, two words picked at random would be rather unimportant to us; the majority of chance selections wouldn't even make sense.  
But in the tiny nanosecond after the Queen uttered those words, something happened in Lilo's brain. Something almost unbearable to suffer; indeed, she almost passed out. But, with all her strength, she tried to stay conscious.  
Imagine everyone in the city of Tokyo packed into a large building of some kind. Now, eight million people aren't just going to stand around doing nothing, so chances are they're going to chat with each other. Various topics may be presented in these conversations, such as the weather, ice-cream, whether Diamond and Pearl is any good, and chilli-cheese dogs.  
Now, imagine that all eight million people were all talking at once. And although normally you can't make heads or tails of what _anyone_ says in giant crowds such as these, suppose just for a moment that you could hear and understand what each individual person was saying.  
Now, this only gives one a very rough picture of what Lilo was going through; in fact, vast volumes of text would probably be inadequate at describing the feeling. But what was worse was she still couldn't move.  
She couldn't curl up into a ball and wait for the voices to go away, she couldn't run until she heard them no more. She couldn't even put her hands over her ears, or try and do something, _anything_ to stop the soundless stream of speech…  
And then she stood up.  
She tried to move her feet. Nothing.  
Suddenly, her feet started carrying her away, towards a nearby console. Her hand lifted itself up, and started tapping out commands. And thoughts started to form in her mind, thoughts that were not, _could_ not be her own, thoughts of assimilation, of conquest.  
It was if she was another person, and the part of her mind that was still intact had receded into an abyss, just a minor personality to a much more powerful individual.


	43. Dreamless Sleep

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 43: Dreamless Sleep**

Do Borg dream?

It was an entirely valid question, and one that Lilo felt deserved an answer; however, it was impossible to know as the drone completely locked her out during the hibernation period. She herself found it difficult to 'sleep' (if sleep was the right word), as the murmurings of the Collective kept her awake; however, this state of awareness soon turned to unconsciousness as the mutters became too much. Unfortunately, this did not last for long, as the same voices that had knocked her out soon woke her again. The few moments of sleep she _did_ get were punctured by visions of her closest friends and family, mindless drones of the Borg.

And it would be her fault.

During her moments of consciousness, she found that she could open her eyelids and look around, but nothing more. It was a weird feeling, and Lilo thought it was somewhat like being told by Nani that she must see something, but not touch.

Nani's head, horribly disconfigured by various technological attachments, floated before her; she tried to force her mind on examining her surroundings, although she had done so twenty times in the last half-hour.

She was standing in some sort of alcove, surrounded on either side by more of the same; some were occupied by drones in what appeared to be some kind of sleep cycle, like the drone that now occupied the majority of her brain, while others were empty, their occupants having long ago left in order to perform various tasks. Before her was a chain-link barrier, and beyond lay what must be a forty-foot drop to the next level. Around her, consoles beeped and glowed, and keypads glinted in the soft green light.

Sometimes, Lilo wondered if Stitch, Jumba and Pleakley had made it on board this strange vessel, if even now they were trying to find some way to rescue her…

_They've abandoned you, or else have been assimilated,_ her rational side whispered wordlessly.

_No, they're coming_, her hope assured her. _They won't leave without you._

* * *

Noisily scuttling along the top of the alcoves, Stitch wondered why any of the zombie-creatures below did not look up; it was as if they didn't care, or else didn't notice him. They just snoozed away, occasionally leaving their keeps to do something, or to check some statistic, but all in all apparently unaware of the blue furball scurrying above their heads. 

This did not make sense to Stitch; after all, moments ago a group of them were trying to capture him. Perhaps they had decided that it wasn't worth it.

And what had happened to his two cousins? One seemed intelligent; they probably made it out okay.

_Of cause_, a nagging voice in his brain told him, _Lilo was bright too, and look what happened…_

Stitch quickly quashed the voice. No-one could have been prepared for what happened to her.

_But you could have saved her…_

Stitch shook his head. It was no use wondering what could have been.

Spying a console, he jumped down from his perch and, with pinpoint precision, landed on his front paws. Upside-down, he could see the plans of the ship, and although the writing was confusing, he soon figured out where he was. Of cause, knowing where he was meant nothing without knowing where he was going, but all the same, he committed the map to memory and continued down the long, dark and desolate hallway.

* * *

"Hey, 419, hurry up!" 

419 looked up from the hydraulics pump she was examining. 426 was anxiously standing at the end of the hallway, impatiently tapping his foot.

"Coming," groaned 419, picking herself up. _Boys…_

They walked in silence for a few moments, keeping a steady pace.

"Y'know, it's not like they're gonna suddenly notice us," 419 suddenly muttered, "and I'd like to investigate these pipes, they seem to be…"

"Little Girl might not have that long," 426 retorted, folding his arms.

"426, it's been _days_ since we last saw her," pointed out 419, frustrated at 426's stubbornness. "If these cybernetic zombies wanted to… er, dispose of her, they would have done so long before now."

More silence.

"Don't worry, I think they want her for something," continued 419. "I mean, why not take the whole ship? They were obviously targeting her."

"But what would they want with such a young human girl?"

"I don't know. That's the mystery."

"Maybe there's some alien soup that requires Terranians as the main ingredient."

419 stared at him.

"What?" 426 asked defensively.

"Well, firstly, _ewww_, and secondly, I don't really think they _need_ to eat. I haven't seen any evidence of a cafeteria, and there's also no sign of food distribution."

As they walked, they heard a loud gushing noise, as if the power of the Victoria Falls had been contained within the space of two feet. Looking around, 419 spotted the source: tubes, one the width of a watermelon, hanging from the next level, a gaseous mixture flowing through them like splurge through a sewer. One had sprung a leak, and massive amounts of the gas were pouring out, bringing with it a smell rather like rotten eggs.

419 nudged 426 and pointed him to the tubes.

"It looks like some kind of ventilation system," 419 guessed. "_Fascinating_."

"Ah, it must be one of them there Internets!" joked 426. 419 didn't get it.

Walking silently with nothing but the rushing of the whatever-gas from the pipe to be heard, 419 milled it over in her head. It didn't make sense at all.

"Maybe they want information," 426 conjectured.

"Yeah, I'm sure we all know what they're after is information on our _clearly_ superior technology," said 419 sarcastically. "And anyway, surely Jumba would be the better one to kidnap."

426 crossed his arms and muttered something almost inaudibly soft, something that almost sounded like "let's see if you can come up with something better."

"Maybe they want to _use_ her for something," 419 postulated. "Like her DNA, for experimentation…"

"Or perhaps use her as a shield," agreed 426. "I mean, who would shoot a little girl?"


	44. Sparky's Gone Away

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 44: Sparky's Gone Away**

**"**Lilo!" screamed a desperate, raspy voice into the unforgiving void.

Hours had past, and Stitch had still not seen any sign of either his best friend or the other two experiments. He felt like he had run for miles, or searched the ship lengthwise at least. The thought that Lilo might be still alive had kept him going onwards, a lighthouse in the stormy sea.

But now, he felt as if his spark had gone.

He leaned forward against the chain-link barrier that only just prevented him from falling into the sea of black below. Inside, the cogs of his mind were still churning with possibilities, but his brain told him that the little girl he knew was by now either dead, or worse.

Slowly, he sighed, and listened to what was around him; the sharp beeping of consoles, the slow hiss of gas escaping, and the occasional psst-shap! of the hydraulics systems that worked the knees of the alien beings around him.

Was this what he was reduced to? Stitch remembered a time when he could travel the ends of the Earth and back; in fact, it was barely four days ago when they were chasing an experiment together; laughing, having fun, and thoroughly enjoying themselves. But now, Stitch felt tired, miserable and alone, all alone in this Rubix-cube-of-a-ship.

**"**Lilo…" he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. He wanted her to be alive… she just _had_ to be alive…

But no, she was gone, and there was nothing he could do.

He stared at his hands; they were cold, desolate, empty. He remembered a book he once read, about a boy and his horse.

**"**_'These look like such_ strong _hands, don't they?'_"

Stitch sighed, and sat beside the fencing, staring at the cold, desolate, empty nothing that surrounded him.

* * *

**"**Look at this!"

426 wearily looked up at what 419 was pointing at. It was a computer screen.

**"**Oh c'mon, we've seen so many consoles that I could probably pull one out of my ears," 426 said hazily.

**"**No, no, no; it's what's _on_ it that's important," 419 replied, brimming with excitement. "You see…"

"Shh, can you hear something?"

419 listened quietly in the near silence.

**"**That," 426 continued, "is the sound of I-don't-ca…"

**"**Quiet!" 419 warned him. "I think I can hear something else!"

**"**Really?"

**"**Ya, although it's kinda hard to tell over the sound of your ginormous ego."

**"**Hey!"

**"**It… _sounds_ like static – hey, you don't still have that walkie-talkie, do you?"  
"As a matter of fact, I do," grinned 426, and with that, he gingerly reached down his throat and pulled from its depths an incredibly-slimy-but-still-operational walkie-talkie.

"Eww…" moaned 419 as her companion flung the mass of mucus and saliva covering the device away. "Why, of all things, did you _swallow_ it?"

"Well, I wanted to hang on to it, but I don't have pockets, and I definitely don't have extra arms that I can slide away… so I put it in the one place I can keep it without worrying about it…"

**"**In your _stomach_?"

"Yah. Why?"

419 shook her head, trying to understand any possible way that that could be a good idea.

"Don't you know, my dear 426, that there are various digestive acids and catabolic enzymes in your stomach that attempt to break down anything that enters it?"

**"**Um, yes!"

**"**Never mind," hand-waved 419, slowly shaking her head again. "I guess it works, and that's what matters."

* * *

**"**Pleakley, are you transmitting on all frequencies?" Jumba asked, his thick, burly accent hiding the shivering fear in his voice.

**"**All known frequencies transmitting, Jumba!" replied Pleakley, who's normally fast and high-pitched voice was now faster and higher-pitched than ever.

**"**This is the Galactic Federation Starship _Dakana,_" articulated Jumba, slowly and clearly. "Our shields are down, and..."

The floor, the walls, the entire ship shuddered as the Borg vessel fired another shot into its starboard decks.

**"**... and the... shut up, computer, I know! ... they - the Borg cube - are, how you say, hitting us with all they are having. We cannot hold out much..."

**"**Jumba? Jumba, is that you?"

The syllables sliced the icy silence of static that surrounded the ship. Jumba looked to Pleakley, and he looked back, hope shining in his face.

**"**Experiment 419! Please, tell us you can help!"

**"**Why?" The two aliens' hearts fell. Surely, if 419 was in a position to aid or assist them, she would know what their problem was.

**"**Jumba, what's wrong?" the voice of 419 asked, more panicked than before. But Jumba did not reply.

**"**Jumba?"

**"**The great scientist, that's what they called me." Jumba sighed heavily. "But I am only a scientist, nothing more, nothing less."

**"**What are you saying, Jumba?" Pleakley looked at his best friend in the universe, eye to eye. "Don't tell me you've..."

**"**We are completely defenceless, completely alone. I am no more a war general than Nani is a great chef..."

He looked wishfully out at the stars, at the cold dark night.

**"**Chance, chance and luck. That's what's gotten me through life... but I'm afraid this may be it."

**"**Jumba?" 419 whispered through the communication device.

Pleakley, however, walked straight up to Jumba and looked him in the eye.

**"**That's nonsense."

**"**But..."

**"**That, Jumba Jookiba, is nonsense, and you know it."

**"**But..."

"Listen to Pleakley, Jumba!" 419 said softly. "Who wrangled his way out of the legal system to escape life imprisonment? You. Who saved us from the asteroid? You. Who quelled the rebellion on Alpha Quaam? Oh, I know what the documents say, but I didn't see any Federation troops in the video footage!"

**"**That wasn't luck, Jumba," Pleakley continued. "That was _you_. And as for being a war general, I can count on one hand the number of times I've beaten you in chess."

"And that's saying something, he only has three fingers!" 426 finished.

**"**Ah, but chess is simply calculating a series of moves based on multiple vectors. This..."

**"**This is just like chess, you should know that!" Pleakley almost shouted. "You have your multitude of vectors, your king to move. They've got a queen on ya, and you're in check."

Jumba sighed. "You're right."

He paced around the control room, deep in thought.

**"**We need a plan," he said, his eyes brightened with new resolve. "One that involves cunning and daring. 419, are you still there?"

**"**Yes, Jumba, I'm here!"

**"**Right, then. I need you to..."

"Jumba!" shouted Pleakley, covering his mouth in shock.

"What? What's wrong?" Jumba looked around quickly, trying to ascertain the danger. But when he caught a glimpse of himself in one of the star-streaked windows, he stopped in his tracks.

He was fading.

Fading quickly.

And as he watched, completely helpless to do anything, he and the world around him materialised into nothing.


	45. A Plan Unfurls

**A/N:** I didn't really like the ending of the last chapter (aka Ch44), so I changed/updated it. Hope you like it! _Jana_!

**Lilo and Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 45: A Plan Unfurls**

"Pleakley, what happened!"

"Maybe it's broken," suggested 426 nonchalantly.

"No, I can still hear the sound of the consoles. Pleakley probably did something boneheaded and dropped it while scurrying away to find somewhere to quiver and hide."

"Er… 419, I'm still listening," said a squeaky sound through the static. 419 almost dropped the walkie-talkie in shock.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she apologised profusely, while 426 snickered behind her.

"No, worries, I get that a lot," the voice reassured her, though sounding a little hurt. "Mainly from Jumba, but still…"

"So, er… what happened to… er, Mr. Mad Scientist?"

"Well, he kinda sorta… well, vanished."

"Vanished?" 419 raised an eyebrow. "Pleakley, people don't just _vanish_…"

"I know that."

"Pleakley?"

"Well, there were two vertically parallel beams of light... I think it's a Borg transportation beam!"

Now 419 was rather puzzled, which was a rather annoying feeling for her. So, being the inquisitive type, she pressed Pleakley for more information.

"Well, the Borg, according to Jumba, are a cyborg race that try to eat up technology so they can learn about it. Or something like that."

"And you think these… Swedish cyborg people have Jumba?"

"Er… yes, I think… when their soldier-thingies took Lilo, they left by fading into nothing… and it had the same beams…"

Pleakley trailed off abruptly, as if the collective memories of Jumba and Lilo was too painful for him to bear.

"So… er, Pleakley, how much damage do you think you can do with a class-nine battleship?"

Pleakley's tone perked up considerably.

"I think I can do enough… why do you ask?"

419 smiled. "A rescue mission."

"We're saving Jumba?" Pleakley enquired through the shadowy static.

"Little Girl too?" 426 asked over 419's shoulder.

"Indeed" was the experiment's reply.

* * *

"Now, you remember that console I showed you?"

"_Nan de?_" yawned a quite obviously tired 426. He stretched his arms high in the air, in an attempt to shake off some of this sleepiness. "Huh… oh, yeah, I remember…"

"Well," continued 419, a little worried about 426's state of health, "er… it appears to be showing a map of some kind. See, these grey dots are the Swedish Cyborg Chefs, and these blue dots over here are… er… 'foreign bodies'."

"Us?" guessed 426.

"Uhuh," nodded 419. "Before, I… what are you doing?"

"I'm seeing if the dot moves when I do," responded 426, running around in circles as one of the dots on the screen rotated with him.

"Uhuuuh…, well, anyway, before I saw the map move somewhere else briefly… somewhere over… er, I think it was that way…'

She waved her hand across the screen, in order to illustrate her point. To her surprise, the map moved too.

"Okay, now we're getting somewhere! Let's see…"

And 419 continued to wave her hand across the screen, until she found what she was looking for.

"Hey 426! This must be Jumba," shouted 419, excited at the prospect of finding the Qweltian. "See the blue dot?"

"Why would they keep him alive? Wouldn't they disassemble him for parts?"

419 gave 426 an odd look.

"What? They're zombie cyborgs, aren't they?"

419 sighed. 426 was _always_ kind of weird.

"I'm not sure why they want him. I mean, all the information _he's_ gonna give them is probably about four-hundred years out of date anyway."

"Hmm…" 426 pondered for a moment. "First Little Girl, then Jumba. It doesn't make sense."

* * *

A lonely blue experiment sat off the side of the gangplank-like corridors, his legs dangling into darkness, his eyes seeing nothing.

Well, to be precise if nothing else, this statement was false for several reasons, if not for the main one – that is, Stitch could see perfectly fine. How ever much his visionary sensors were processing, though, he just wasn't taking in any of it - the wide, desolate hallway opposite him, the deep bowls of the ship below, the crowds of metal men passing him by. What was the point?

If truth be told, Experiment Six Twenty-Six could not remember a time when he had ever felt as utterly useless as he did at this moment. He couldn't protect Lilo, nor could he bring her back. He had not heard from his two companions, or Jumba or Pleakley in hours - he supposed they were all now in the clutches of the evil that surrounded him. He had failed.

_But so what if you've failed,_ a voice inside his head asked him. _When you trip, you pick yourself up and try again. This is no different._

He sighed. He didn't see how he could get himself out of this one.

_Think,_ the voice told him. _The brain of a supercomputer, and you can't figure it out without an internal monologue?_

He smiled slightly. If only Pleakley could see him now, talking to himself. He'd probably think he was crazy.

Of cause, Lilo never gave up on him. Sure, she may have been annoyed one or twice, and sure, they may have had a few (dozen) fights, but she stuck by him, through thick and thin.

The experiment cheered up slightly. After all, it had been Lilo who was the determined one, with unwavering optimism and a cheery disposition. If she wasn't here, and if she was in misery, like him, maybe he could be cheery for the both of them.

* * *

"So, how does it go?"

A single solitary figure sat alone in shadowy silence as the great Queen of the Borg paced around her chambers.

"Fine, fine…" she mumbled, almost seemingly distracted by something. The figure noticed this, and bowed its head slightly.

"I think you're paying too much attention on this 'Lilo' girl," said the creature in the shadows. "All of you," it continued, uneasily eyeing the exits.

"Oh, don't worry about her," the Mind of Many murmured. "She and her 'friends' won't be a problem for much longer."

She looked ceiling-wards, as does a sailor when smelling the fresh salty sea-breeze, and smiled her dreadful, evil smile.

"Soon, they will all become… like _us_."


	46. Hopes and Expectations

**A/N:** I've decided to continue updating this during the rewrite, and then post it all when I'm finished. So, let's get this story done!

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 46: Hopes and Expectations**

Jumba sighed hopelessly.

He'd known it'd be like this. It was always like this.

He stared ahead determinately, trying not to recall whispers of the past. He knew he would remember at some point, but now was not the time for nostalgia.

He looked around, his four illustrious eyes blinking continuously. He appeared to be located a small room, maybe four square meters in area. There was a hallway ahead of him, completely unguarded. They knew that, if he tried to escape, he'd be snatched up in an instant.

Jumba briefly calculated his chances of success. Two-point-five-eight percent – maybe if by some fluke the Borg messed up, he'd have a shot, but the Borg rarely made mistakes. There was no place you could draw the line, no place you could say "this far, no further!"

Jumba resigned himself to fate. After all, he'd need a miracle.

He had awoken to find himself sitting upright, his wrists strapped to the wall. He'd tried to break them, but it was no use, they were simply too strong. The guards had apparently thought it was risky, because he'd been knocked out, stunned with some kind of instrument on their wrist – obviously a warning not to try anything like that again.

He peered between the spaces in the metallic crisscrossing bars that made the floor – he saw he was on a platform, and there was quite a fair way down. He wondered if he could take that – after all, he'd survived being bowled over by a Volkswagen Bug – but decided he didn't want to find out. Besides, the handheld laser he kept in his shoe _just in case_ appeared to have disappeared, so he couldn't make a run for it, and he couldn't blast a hole in the floor.

Drat.

Many interesting contraptions lined the walls, from gas valves to weird tubes and complex computer interfaces. Jumba was curious about their operation, but knew that the Borg were not interested in answering his questions. They probably weren't interested in giving him information he could use against that, but more than that… he was to them, he reasoned, a small blight on the face of perfection; no more important than some flying insect swatted against the windscreen of a twelve-wheeled truck leaving Minneapolis at seventy kilometres an hour. Why should they care about him?

Two Borg drones guarded him, but there might as well be none: Jumba knew that even if he made it out of here, finding a way around this ship was practically hopeless, let alone doing it alive... and that said nothing about escaping the ship itself. Larger than some small moons, and with but nary a map to guide him, the menagerie of passages, rooms and hallways made navigating Galaxy Defence Agencies look like a pleasant picnic in the park.

And that was _really_ saying something.

He needed something to do. _Anything_. Being captured by these cybernetic creatures was bad, sure, but even worse was not having something to do.

Maybe they knew that. Perhaps _they_, whoever was the authority, was just biding their time, aggravating him on purpose. Perhaps they were – what was that silly human expression? Jumba remembered it had something to do with wounds; perhaps making it larger?

_Gah, this is maddening_, he shouted in his mind.

He started twiddling his feet. (One of the drones appeared to raise the ridge where his eyebrow had been, but otherwise said nothing else.) His evil genius mind begged for stimulus, but even twiddling his feet got boring after a while - there was simply none to be found here.

He wished for a moment that he had been holding something when he had gotten kidnapped – a notepad, a rux sphere, Pleakley's Chinese finger holders – anything to pass the time in this boring part of nowhere.

_Heh, Pleakley would probably find something hilariously inappropriate to say about now,_thought Jumba. He could use some of that right now, because wherever he was going, he didn't think he'd have much to laugh at.

Not much at all.

* * *

Hope wasn't a very big thing on the mind of Jumba Jookiba, as he looked towards his pitiful future with grudging acceptance. However, deep in the halls of the Cube ship, hope was at a high point, as two experiments and a walkie-talkie huddled together, speaking excitedly in hushed voices.

"Okay, so we have to extract Jumba from here," said 419, pointing to a map she had drawn on her PADD. "Pleakley, you're the distraction. Fire everything you've got at them - torps, plasma, shuttle hyperdrives – whatever makes large explosions."

"Large explosions? I can do that," answered Pleakley.

"Yes, I remember," 419 replied, her mind temporarily lingering on one such explosion barely two weeks ago. "426, you're with me. I noticed a small passage on one of the maps – it doesn't seem to be used for anything, but we might be able to sneak past them and rescue Jumba."

"Yes, ma'am!" shouted the experiment with youthful abandon.

"Pleakley, I estimate Jumba is about fifty-thousand kilometres from your position, to an angle of two-eight-five degrees. Wait for my signal to attack."

"Can do, 419, see ya later!" said the one-eyed alien enthusiastically, and with a click, the walkie-talkie went dead.

Turning to her brethren, who was now examining his navel, 419 tapped him on the shoulder, and gestured towards one of the deep, darkened hallways that lay before them. Nodding, he took the lead, with 419 following behind.

* * *

Time passed vary slowly for 426, and seeing as he contained all the illustrious attention span of a gnat, he started getting bored with their silent trudge through the passageways. To his increasing annoyance, 419 was acting more like a moth in a well lit room, often stopping to draw some contraption in her notebook. He wished, for an inkling of a moment, that he were a spider, so he could shut her up in its' web, or at least scare the living daylights out of her.

"Can we _hurry this up?_" he moaned as his sister examined a particularly dusty piping system.

"But this is fascinating!" the experiment tried to explain. "They seem to have some kind of hydraulical system for…"

"For _what? _We are supposed to be looking for Jumba! Do you want him zombfied? _And_Little Girl too?" 426's pent-up anger suddenly unpent itself. "_This_ is _your _plan! How are we supposed to carry it out if you stop for every doo-hickey and thinga-mah-bob?"

He panted for a bit, tired out by his outburst. He glared at 419, thinking that she probably had some witty retort or long-winded justification.

But she just stood in silence.

"You're right," she slowly answered, sighing as she pressed some buttons on her PADD. "We're almost at the compartment. I've put the plans up on my notepad, so you can read them. You be the leader."

426 looked at her. "Are you sure? I mean, this is your personal PADD, and Jumba gave it to you way back at GDA!"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Just don't mess it up too much, K?"

426 smiled. "Well, OK."

* * *

Hope.

It was an odd word, or at least, it seemed odd in the mind of the blue little experiment who was now pacing around, considering what to do next. And, for just a moment, he pondered the meaning and significance of such a word.

It was such a small word, with only four letters, and yet it held such conviction, such passion… it was a beacon of light, shining in the darkest night.

Hope was a word of the heart.

Stitch was, for a moment, amused; it seemed all the most important words in Galactic Standard were among the shortest. Then again, they were probably the first to be formed, and their simplicity was simply due to lack of sophistication.

Or perhaps it was better just to keep them simple?

Momentarily, he became aware of a low beeping noise. His communicator. For a moment, he fumed; because of the communicator, his train of thought had jumped the rails and was now scattered across the tracks, carriages pushed on their side, with officials reporting five casualties and twenty-three injured.

Stitch extracted his third arm, glancing at the display. Apparently, it had been beeping for some time, as the circle at the top-right indicated; indeed, he had been so engrossed in his thoughts that he simply hadn't noticed.

The experiment cursed his negligence under his breath - after all, it may have been the other experiments, trying to contact him. Maybe they had found Lilo…

_But what if they just _found _Lilo? What if her life had…_

Her face shone through his memories, and Stitch gulped, unable to bear it. He had just gotten out of one blue funk, was he to re-descend that ladder so quickly?

_Right then_, he thought, shaking his head in an eager attempt to clear it. Hesitating ever so slightly, he slowly pressed a rubbery red button, not sure what to expect on the other end.

* * *

At that moment, something began to puzzle 419, in the form of a small beeping noise.

"That's odd."

Rarely was there a time where 419 was puzzled, so 426 felt inclined to inquire further.

"Well," 419 began, with all the air of someone performing a seminar. "Your short-range radio transceiver…"

426 narrowed his eyebrows.

"Sorry, sorry," apologised 419, correctly interpreting his expression. "Your _walkie-talkie_ just started beeping."

"Well, waddaya know!" 426 exclaimed, looking at the screen. "Call waiting!"

"We _did_ find them on Jumba's ship," the bespectacled experiment pointed out. "He probably got annoyed by the uselessness of this and that and went on one of those 'invent-_x-done-right_-athons he does every now and then."

"True."

A few moments of annoying beeping passed between them.

"Well, aren't ya going to answer it?"

"I would if I knew what to do!" 426 replied in a pained voice.

"Try the red button," 419 offered.

"Why the red one?"

"Because traditionally, red buttons are painted red to inform the user that they are important," explained 419 matter-of-factly.

"Fine," he moaned, and pressed the red button.

"Heh-lohw? Yoo-hoo!" Experiment 626's broken English echoed across the chambers, followed by what distinctly sounded like a long, drawn out slurp.

"Er… hello, 626," 419 laughed, clearly bemused by the experiment's antics.

"419? Egata no uta!" [1]

"Why's he talking about singing?" whispered 426.

419 sighed. "Jumba's been captured. We're going after him."

"Naga takaba!" [2] 626's speech quickened, and there were signs of exasperation in his voice. "Iki na'tifa…" [3] He paused; although he was evidently thinking, as he continued to make "hmm"-like noises.

"Jumba pre'oki na itu'ke maka'ba?" [4] he asked after several of these sounds.

"Yeah, we do, I could transmit it to you if you want…" 419 snatched her PADD off of 426 and started tapping feverishly. "Er, do you know how to process Unicode?"[5]

"Ih!" was the reply.

"Right, well, I'll transmit it over the radio in Jakan[6], and you… uh, well, you can meet us there, I guess."

She tapped the PADD one last time.

All of a sudden, the device began to make noises of varying pitch and length, some quite loud and high. 419 bit her tongue, knowing any noise may create errors in the transmission.

"Couldn't we turn it down a smidge?" whispered 426. 419 shook her head.

"Why not?" 419 whished she knew the hand sign for static. Instead, she put her finger to her mouth to indicate to 426 that he needed to be quiet.

426 humphed, folding his arms across his chest in a "fine-don't-tell-me" pose. Wasn't he in charge?

The transmission only took a few minutes; in that time, 426 had sung several songs in his head, played air-guitar for several more, played an imaginary game of checkers with himself, and had several rounds of naughts-and-crosses. He was just revelling in another success when 419 tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Should I be worried?" she questioned, holding the PADD out to him. 426 broke a smile; he'd been so caught up in his games that he hadn't noticed the noises had stopped.

"Nah, I've got it all sorted," he replied, accepting the device from her sister and pulling himself up.

"Right," he muttered, reorientating the map, "we need to go… that way!" Pointing the way, he lead onwards; 419 followed behind, sometimes glancing at interesting objects, but always quickly catching up to 426 afterwards.

* * *

[1] "What has happened [pre tamos ba'ki'ba = since we last met]?" The bracketed section was truncated; saying the full sentence is considered overly formal and antiquated.

_tamos_: passing, here referring to the passage of time. _ba'ki'ka_: to meet, from "baja" (come together), "tamoki" (action) and "ika", the neutral verb "to do".

[2] "No way!" Probably a contraction of a longer sentence.

[3] "This isn't good." "Na'tifa" is a contraction of "nala bootifa" (lit. not good).

[4] "[Do you have] a plan for freeing Jumba?" The "do you have" part is implied.

_pre'oki_: plan, from "pre" (time) and "tamoki" (action). _itu'ke_: freedom, from "itume" (solitude) and "-ke", a positive reversal suffix. _maka'ba:_roughly "done fast", from "maka" (quick) and iba, the positive verb "to do".

[5] Unicode is a standard method of storing text as a set of numbers.

[6] Jakan Standard is a series of eight tones played for two different lengths of time to represent base-sixteen numbers, standardised as a basic form of data transmission via audio across the Galactic Federation. It can be thought as an advanced form of Morse code. 419 uses it here as she wishes to transmit the map of where she is (and she doesn't want to talk for hours on end.) She expects 626 to be able to understand the transmission, since he can process information faster than most supercomputers.


	47. The Rescuers

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 47: The Rescuers**

As anyone will tell you, walking on your hands and knees down a long, thin, narrow tunnel can be rather awkward. There's little margin for error, and few ways to escape if things go wrong. Never-the-less, the two experiments took it with a stiff upper lip, traversing the steel corridors with a minimum of fuss. After all, they had a mission, and it all depended on them being… well, dependable.

One thing that had struck Experiment 419 was how… how _eager_ 426 seemed to help. After years of living together, he'd never seemed to be the type to put his left foot forward, preferring to leave the situation in more capable hands. 419 felt impressed, but also… _worried_.

Maybe he'd done all this because it was Jumba?

And then she remembered his hijacking of the ship. That was before Jumba had been captured. And that outburst… it'd had been so unlike him. He was usually the calm, laid back one; seeing him shout like that… it was unusual.

"Hey, sis! Right turn here."

The voice of Experiment 426 broke through her thoughts, and she found herself upon the edge of large, deep cavity. Slowly turning her head, she saw 426's head poking out of the turn she should have taken.

"Ah, sorry!" she yelled, blushing slightly. "I was lost in my thoughts!"

"No prob, I completely understand!" he yelled back.

419 crept backwards until she reached the junction, all the while muttering about her stupid tangential thoughts.

"Hey, 426," she said as they moved along the shaft, "I really want to thank you for your… well, your… er…_ enthusiasm…_ I mean, about getting Jumba and Little Girl back."

426 briefly gave her a weird look before continuing.

"Jumba's family. He's our creator. Why wouldn't I go?"

"Well… you've never been… you haven't been very … you don't usually put this much effort into things," she said, choosing her words carefully. "And… I noticed you were like this… well, before Jumba was captured, when it was just Little Girl, and… well, you hardly know her."

"I know enough. She's part of Jumba's adopted family back on Earth. What's that word Jumba mentioned?" He wrinkled his forehead a little. "_'Ohana_. As far as I'm concerned, she might as well be one of the experiments."

"But… that's the thing. You didn't help Bon-Bon with us when she was trapped against…"

"That was different," 426 interrupted. "We knew she'd be OK. You heard Jumba – she's being tortured until she breaks, or something – they're brainwashing her. That's something no-one wants."

419 frowned. Something didn't click.

"Look." Stopping suddenly, 426 slightly raised his voice. "She might as well be my sister, or some foreigner off the street, for all I care. I'd treat her the same. No-one deserves that."

An inkling of an idea had begun to form in 419's head but… it was much too crazy a notion, it _couldn't_ be right. 426 was correct – she was being too paranoid, she should take him at his word. They were, after all, siblings, and it wasn't proper for siblings to deceive each other. She quickly shook the notion away.

"Well… thanks anyway." The question of his motivation had still not been answered, in her mind, but she left it be. There were better things to be done, better fights to be won.

And they needed to win this one badly.

* * *

As Jumba sat, arms pinned to the wall, he found himself thinking about ways he could escape.

Although he knew any chance he could take was infinitesimally small, he reasoned that he could, after all, hardly do much else, and he might as well make himself useful, in case he was to get a lucky break.

One of the problems with his current situation was that the Borg had been unnervingly thorough when stripping him down – he'd lost everything on his person except for the clothes on his back. True, they were quite nice clothes - a green shirt, a pair of brown shorts, and a rather dishevelled lab coat with quite a few burn marks in various places – but they nary helped him in his current situation.

Then again, more than a few of those plans also required use of his hands, which he did not have at the time.

And then, something drew him from his contemplations. He listened, perking his ears upwards. There was… a ticking noise of some kind, far off in the distance. It sounded oddly familiar, as though he had heard it before, but where from, he could not fathom.

After a few moments, the noise died. The scientist put it down to a malfunctioning device, or perhaps mere imagination.

As he was thinking over one of his methods, he was brought from his deliberations by the loud boom of a distant, but large explosion – very faint, but definite. Suddenly, his mind started to race – if it was the other experiments trying to make a distraction…

Apparently, if it was, it had worked. One of the two drones marched out of the cubicle, in his stiff, unflinching fashion.

His ear twitched. The noise had started again, and whatever-it-was, it was coming closer. He leaned forward, trying to get as close to the source as possible.

This time, he was sure he wasn't hearing things.

Jumba mused about what it could be. Now that it had come closer, he was able to hear it more clearly; it sounded a lot like the tapping of someone hard at work on a computer keyboard, or the scraping scuttle of crab claws on metal, rather than the ticking he'd heard before. But he'd recognised the pattern; he knew he'd heard it before…

Snapping his fingers, he realised who it was. "626, the little scamp!" he muttered to himself.

The lone guard glanced at Jumba suspiciously.

"Er… counting game!" he explained, a large hammy smile on his face. 'Tis very fun, you should try… No?"

The guard shifted his stare back towards the corridor.

Jumba was puzzled. Surely the guard could hear the claws of the experiment scratching and grabbing and clawing away at the ship. Did he not consider him a threat? This behaviour went against everything he'd observed thus far… and yet…

At that very moment, he heard a loud thud behind him, and then the distinctive sound of a laser – quickly turning, he saw, to his great astonishment, a very familiar sight.

"Experiment 419, what are you doing?"

"Why, I believe I'm saving you, of course!"

With a loud clang, the braces fell clean. Jumba rubbed his wrists – it felt good to have them free again.

"Now, hurry!"

"But what about the guard? I do not think he would be appreci…"

"Woah, woah, woah!" 419 interrupted, waving her hands around. "What guard?"

"Why, right over…" began Jumba, pointing to where the drone had been.

But the drone was gone.

"That's odd… he was right…"

"Yes, I believe you, but we need to hurry!" 419 said impatiently, trying hard to push Jumba to his feet. "We can ponder about this all we like later, Uncle Jumba, but right now, this spot is not a very good place to be, so I suggest we move!"

"A good place to be?" Jumba repeated, barely able to contain his astonishment. _Of course_ this wasn't a good place to be!

"Er… well, it's complicated," she admitted. "I'll explain it on the way, but we have to move now, and the more we talk about having to move now, the less we're not moving now!"

Jumba quickly shook his head - she'd misunderstood him

"No, no, no, that's not…"

"Jumba!" she shouted impatiently.

He looked from the empty hallway to 419's desperate face and back again. His eyes narrowed, and his eyebrows fixated into an unmistakeable look of determination.

"Right then, we move."

And so, grabbing her paw, he dashed towards the passageway.

Once there, he quickly scanned the corridors. Grateful that they were empty, the two quickly made their way down a hallway, every now and then hiding from their captors as they stiffly marched down the corridors - behind canisters and in alcoves and other such places that had the virtue of being hidden from view.

Once again, Jumba heard their approach, and motioned to hide behind a rather large rectangular object, with rounded corners and many little pipes littering the surface. He watched the drones nervously, eyeing their various instruments as they twirled and whirred.

Some of those looked painful.

As the drones receded in the distance, Jumba had the slight feeling that something was wrong. When he heard 419 swear in Qweltian, he knew.

"Blixnak! We missed 426!"

"426 was _helping_?" Jumba enquired inquisitively.

"Yes, he was supposed to be right behind me! He must have been caught or somethin'."

Jumba sighed. "Well, we'll have to…"

At that moment, he felt a heavy weight fall on his shoulders, to match the leaden feeling in his stomach. He turned his head slowly to see what was behind him.

Two drones. Goody.

"Er, hi!" 419 exclaimed, grinning cheesily. "We were… just examining your… fine craftsmanship with respect to this vessel!"

The drones didn't move.

"Well," continued Jumba, his accent becoming more pronounced, "while it is very nice to be meeting you both, I am thinking it'd be best if we… go our separate ways now, no?"

He tried to make his way forward, but evidently the drones were not impressed, as the only thing that changed was the tightness of his grip.

"No, then… well, I am guessing we could just be staying here to chat, right, 419?"

The drones pushed their shoulders forward, and they fell into a steady rhythm of walking.

"Or… or we could go with you and all enjoy a nice cup of tea!" 419 posited. Somehow, Jumba didn't think tea was on their minds.

A few moments passed between them as they silently moved through the corridors. And then, suddenly, Jumba felt something tugging on his sleeve.

"What is it, 419?" he asked out of the corner of his mouth.

"Er, I suggest you turn your head about 15 degrees to the right."

"To the right?" questioned Jumba.

"Yes, quickly."

Jumba was puzzled, but did as 419 suggested. And then, no sooner than he had, a small blue blur whirred past his face and slammed into his captor's face. With a sickening crack, the drone's head fell backwards, and his hand fell limp from Jumba's shoulder.

The one holding 419 turned to face him, but Stitch was ready; with precision, he landed onto its shoulder, and then tried to grab the drone's arm. However, the drone had been quite a bit stronger than he expected, and with its pistons pumping away, it managed to keep its arm mainly still. With the other arm, it grabbed Stitch by the scruff of the neck.

"Maka maka, sasa!" Stitch insisted, gesturing towards the hallway.

"But what about you?"

"Mega okietaka! Go!" he shouted, as, propelled by his legs like a swing, he rotated around the drone's arm and latched on to its shoulder.

"He'll be fine," Jumba said, grabbing 419 by the paw. "He is being one of my genius experiments, after all."

419 stood still for a moment, contemplating this.

"Fine then," she submitted. "But we'll meet up again, OK? You're not leaving us?"

"419!" Jumba shouted exasperatingly, trying to pull her along.

"Promise me!"

"Okietaka! I promise!" Stitch called, pulling the drone's head back.

And with that, Jumba gave a final tug, and 419 began to run, even as two more drones entered behind them.

Looking back, Jumba saw Stitch slam one of them into another by blinding the first. Yes, 626 was intelligent, he'd be able to hold them off.

He hoped that was the case, at least.

Then he felt 419 tugging on his sleeve again.

"What about 426?" she asked as Jumba started to slow down.

Jumba shook his head.

"We'll have to be leaving him behind. I've…"

"_No!_" 419 pushed Jumba backwards (or, at least, tried.) "We can't leave him!"

"Look, it would be doing him no good if we get captured again," Jumba explained. "I've locked on to his position with short-range radio transceiver – he's moving at the moment, but he doesn't seem to be responding to it."

419 narrowed her eyes.

"Don't worry, 426 will be fine! After all, evil genius creator made him, and with more than enough smarts to outwit evil cybernetic beings!"

At that moment, Experiment 626 dropped from the ceiling.

"Threat eliminated, no problem!" he said.

"For now, at least." Jumba looked to 419. "Just in case he is being lost or something, I have left message on message box, with co-ordinates that he can be plugging in to sonar unit. He'll meet up with us, and then we can be on our way."

"I guess you're right," 419 said, submitting to Jumba's appeal.

Jumba smiled. 426 can be annoying and lazy, but he could be quite resourceful when pressured.

And, after all, as he reasoned to himself, on a cube ship miles across and filled to the brim with cybernetic creatures trying to conquer the universe, what could possibly go wrong?

--

**A/N:** We'll see what happened to 426 in the next chapter. Hope you guys had a merry Christmas and a marvelous new year!


	48. 426's Story

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
Chapter 48: 426's Story**

A half-hour earlier, and a few hundred meters away, Experiment 426 suddenly stopped.

"OK, according to this," he said, gesturing at 419's PADD, "Jumba's cell should be right below us."

"Good, good… Could you help me with one of these?" 419 was attempting to lift a large, smooth cube-shaped object from the floor.

"K, gotchya," he said, and with one large tug, he'd pulled it up and out of its little pit.

"There he is!" whispered 419, and sure enough, Jumba was sitting below them, arms strapped to the wall. His lab coat, formerly clean and straight, had taken on a dishevelled character, rough and bumpy. His ears were drooping and his eyes were centred on his hands, which now appeared paler than when they'd last seen him.

426 put the cube down on top of another cube and joined 419 in staring down at Jumba's dishevelled image.

"Ooh, he doesn't exactly look the best," he muttered as he squinted down the hole. "How'd he get those singe marks on his coat? That was his favourite coat, too."

"Singe marks?

"Can't you s…"

426's face fell with realisation.

"Oh, I'm sorry about… I forgot you didn't have hypersensitive retina. Sorry."

"Nah, it's OK!" 419 beamed.

An awkward silence fell between them.

"So… do you think we could get him out?" 426 asked.

"Nah, not on our own… see, over there? There's two guards. We'd need 626 or something."

"Well, then," said 426 vibrantly, pausing to crack his knuckles in what he'd obviously thought was a dramatic tone. "Sounds like a distraction is in order!"

And before 419 could say any different, he was off.

* * *

A few corridors along, if one were to look at the ceiling, one might be surprised to see a small green head poking out of nowhere.

I say "surprised" since it was rather rare to see heads poking out of ceilings, and thus most people would find it peculiar – unless, for example, they had hired an electrician to wire their house, or they were one of the many worshipers of the cult whose divine being was only known as "Ceiling Cat". Nether-the-less, and luckily for Experiment 426, no-one had the particular desire to look above them at that particular moment.

This corridor had two Borg drones in it, and both of them had their head in their work, tapping away at odd control panels – thick cylindrical columns lined with green circular markings. 426 could only assume whatever they were doing was long, boring, tedious and not worth his time.

_Wasn't there another opening closer to the cell?_

He backtracked along the narrow vents above the corridors, all the while trying to remember exactly where the opening had been. Briefly consulting the PADD, he'd concluded that he had been heading down the wrong vent. Grumbling, he awkwardly turned himself around, squishing both his head and one of his legs along the ceiling as he did.

_Why can't they make these stupid things wider?_

Crossing an intersection with another vent, he noticed another thing that bugged him – everything looked _the same_. Sure, there were the random pipes and bits and pieces, but looking at the forest instead of the trees, the overall décor was repetitive and boring. Couldn't they do something a _little_ different? Maybe have a blue-coloured section or something?

Then again, he reasoned with himself, seeing as they were cybernetic zombies, perhaps they weren't capable of original thought.

Suddenly, he became aware that, at that very moment, his hands had not made contact with anything solid.

"Gah!"

Realising he was falling, the experiment pushed against one side with his feet and quickly grabbed on to the ledge of the other side of the opening, digging his claws deeply into the hard metallic surface of the vent.

He slowly pulled himself up, thanking whatever deities experiments believed in that he had not fallen. Although, being an experiment, he'd probably survive, he couldn't imagine falling that far a distance _without_ breaking at least a bone or two, and he'd rather much avoid that kind of pain. On top of that, he'd be a sitting duck for anything that came along and decided to do some target practice.

But even worse, if he had fell, 426 was sure that he'd never hear the end of it from his sister. After all, it _was_ him who warned her about paying attention in the first place! The more 426 thought of this, the more 419's ringing laughter filled his ears; 426 tried to scrunch them up to stop the noise.

_Right_, he thought, _hanging around here won't solve anything._

And so, with one final tug, he pulled himself up and onto the floor of the vent. He decided to rest for a few brief seconds, in order to regain his composure; having done so, he then turned around and, making sure his back claws were securely dug in to the floor of the vent, swung his head down the opening to take a look at the scene below.

The hallway was deserted. Two terminals were situated at either end; beside each was a glowing green pyramid… thing.

Now, in 426's admittedly limited experience, glowing green objects were usually important, either being storage devices or power sources of some kind. With this in mind, 426 took the laser scalpel that he had borrowed from 419, pointed it at one of the pyramid things, and pressed the button.

After a few seconds of being hit by the beam, it exploded with a satisfying crackle. 426 then destroyed the other green pyramid thing, and the consoles beside them for good measure; each of them showered sparks and belched smoke on their respective disintegrations.

And after taking the time to admire his destructive handiwork, he swung himself back up into the shaft and started making his way back to his waiting sister.

* * *

"Hey, did it work?" 426 asked 419 as he approached the opening she was staring down.

"Brilliantly! Both guards left the cell, and I dare say are going to clean up the mess you caused… what exactly did you do?"

"Oh, you know," shrugged 426 smiling sheepishly. "Destroyed some glowing things here, blew up a console there… just your average mayhem and madness…"

"Ah, yes, what you do best." 419 smiled. "So I guess we're going?"

"Right."

"OK." 419 stepped up to the hole apprehensively.

"One moment, aren't you forgetting something?" 419 held out her laser scalpel.

"Oh, thanks!" She took it from him and eyed the floor below the nervously. "Well, here goes."

"Here goes, indeed," echoed 426.

"Three, two, one… Geronimo!" She held her nose and, feet first, dived through the hole.

Making sure she had landed safely, 426 prepared to jump himself. Closing his eyes, he stepped towards the opening.

Suddenly, his abdomen slammed into cold metal, his head hovering above the hole - he had tripped on something. Angrily looking back, he saw that one of his back paws had caught on a pipe of some kind; he tried to pull it but it wouldn't budge.

He sighed. Must the universe be against him?

Rolling over and sitting up, he carefully unwound the piping from his leg, careful not to puncture it with his sharp claws – after all, he had no idea what was in those pipes and he had a feeling he didn't want to know. Tedious as the work was, he resisted the urge to just slash the tubes in half and be done with it.

Finally, he had untangled the last loop. Feeling elated to be free of the whatever-pipe, he promptly jumped down the hole to the floor below.

A moment later, he wished he had looked first.

Five of the alien cyborgs surrounded him. He looked around, but 419 and Jumba were nowhere in sight.

"Oh, hi!" said 426, waving innocently. _Curse that whatever-pipe! They're probably here looking for Jumba._

One of the drones spoke.

"Two of Seven, primary adjunct of Unimatrix 723. You will come with us."

"Not likely," muttered 426. He was _not_ going to let them take him.

But little did the young experiment know that following the drone's directions was, in fact probably the best course of action.

Because, although he did not know it, right then, that spot was not a very good place to be.


	49. A Difficult Decision

**A/N**: This and the next chapter was originally a single chapter, but it felt like it was getting too long so I decided to split it.

* * *

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek**  
**Chapter 49: A Difficult Decision**

Experiment 426 stared at the scene before him, searching for some way to escape the situation he had found himself in.

They had blocked the exit, so he had nowhere to run. Besides that, they'd probably call in more alien things to capture him.

They probably would not listen to reason. Although he had not actually physically been in the room when Jumba and 419 had escaped, the aliens knew he had been on the ship with Jumba and probably would think he was one of them (which he was, but that's besides the point.)

He doubted that he could distract them by, for example, pointing at a random place and shouting something like "Is that a demonic duck of some kind?" For one thing, these aliens would probably be a lot better at detecting the sudden arrival of foreign objects in the room. For another, 426 somewhat expected that their brains were wired to some kind of encyclopaedia, and so would know for a fact that there were no demonic ducks of any kind actually in existence.

He could not overpower them. The genetic template he was based on was several versions behind Experiment 626, so he was nowhere near as strong as him – and he had witnessed 626 struggling with these… _things_. Besides, 426 lacked the quick reflexes of 626, and he didn't care to have them – he had expected to be logging data for Jumba right now on the status of his latest scientific achievements, not defending his life on a hostile ship far removed from his home in terms of both space _and_ time.

No, the only way to go was up.

"Look, I'd love to stay," he shouted dramatically, as the aliens menacingly advanced, "but I have a prior arrangement!"

And with that, he extended his claws and dug into the walls.

* * *

"Are you _sure_? Are you sure he's out of range?"

Jumba looked up from the communicator's screen and nodded. "Am absolutely positive. Radar shows 426 to be being outside blast radius of any possible explosion Pleakley could be causing." He scratched his head. "But…"

419 groaned. "There's a 'but'?"

"But," Jumba continued, holding up a giant finger to signal for silence, "there is chance that the resultant decompression could be blowing him out as well. From my rudimentary EM scans, there seems to be an inactive shield separator every kilometre, probably to deal with explosive decompressions like these until the main shields are able to be adapting. Worst case scenario is that the explosion takes out the shield generator for the quadrant 426 is being in, which means…"

He suddenly spotted the very distressed look on 419's face.

"Er, well…, he has very strong claws, so I'm sure he'd be able to be holding on until the shields adjust… and besides, at the very worst he can be surviving in space, so…"

"Jumba, ika manoba!" Stitch warned. Jumba stopped talking – Stitch was quite right. The thought of 419 surviving – yes alive, but alone for all eternity in space – was probably far worse than him dying in the explosion, and not something 419 needed right now.

Jumba looked down at the worried experiment, his face falling slightly. He would need to comfort her, and he was no good at comforting.

"Look," he said softly, his giant hand parting 419's hair slightly as he placed it on her head. "You don't have to go through with it. Not if you don't want…"

"No, we h-h-have to…" she interrupted, nervous but resolute. "If we h-h-have any c-c-chance of s-saving L-l-little G-girl, we have to d-distract them."

Jumba was surprised – not since her creation had he seen Experiment 419 stutter.

"Pleakley could round to another part of the ship…"

"N-no, t-this is the best place. It's st-strategically the furthest from wh-what the m-map said L-little Girl p-probably is, and rep-p-presents, um, the muh, most concentrated area f-for energy gen-generators…"

"But if you have any doubt that 426 will survive…"

419 looked down. She then took a deep breath.

Suddenly staring straight into Jumba's eyes, she said without stutter, "I'm sure if you're sure, Unca Jumba."

Jumba smiled. "He's going to make it," he said, assuredness in his voice.

* * *

Experiment 426 had made it half-way up the wall when it occurred to him that he should call the other walkie-talkie to assure the other guys that he was OK.

Of course, it probably wasn't the best time – he had just dodged the claw-like arm of one of the drones, and another, having climbed up the wall to a razor-thin ledge, was now marching along it towards him as if it were strolling through Central Park. How the being stayed on the precipice was beyond 426's comprehension but he suspected ninjas had something to do with it.

Seeing that he was now drawing level with the top of the hallway that led out of what had been Jumba's cell, 426 began to make his way across the wall. The process was slow and tedious – since he had no claws in his feet, he was unable to scale the walls like his younger cousins; instead he was forced to climb by pulling out one claw, placing it slightly higher, and pulling out the next claw.

And that other drone was getting closer.

Finally, he reached the hallway opening. In one swift motion, he swung through the top – narrowly missing another drone's spinning blade attachment thingy – and landed on the ground beyond the drone's reach.

_Made it!_ he cheered in his head. _Now to find the others…_

But then he felt a clammy hand pick him up by the shoulder, and whatever sense of victory he had briefly possessed deserted him in an instant.

* * *

Experiment 419 took one last look down the corridor. She knew Jumba had said he wasn't anywhere near here, but still…

"OK, Pleakley. On my mark."

"Rodger," replied Pleakley over the communicator.

No one was coming.

"Three. Two."

He was smart. He was strong. He'd make it.

"One."

But what if he hadn't…

"Open… open fire."

"Rodger, firing a full spread of plasma torpedoes, and a continuous stream from the plasma blaster… now!."

A small shiver pulsed through the ship. Pleakley's bombardment was obviously having some effect, but it seemed to be small.

"Okay, they appear to have adapted their shields now," rang Pleakley's voice through the communicator. "Um… I've managed to knock out a bit of stuff, but nowhere near what we planned."

Silence fell. The plan had failed.

But at least 426 was…

"Launching rigged hyperdrive."

Hyperdrive?

"Pleakley, what do you mean, _hyperdr…!_"

All of a sudden, an almighty boom rang from the direction they had come. A string of shock waves forced them to the floor – it was almost as if the ground had been made from ballistics gel after someone had fired a gun through it.

"Pleakley, what have you done!" 419 shouted angrily through the communicator.

"Well, I-I-I rigged a shuttle hyperdrive with a timed explosive!" Pleakley whimpered, his voice's pitch rising significantly. "I thought it would work as a backup…"

"I wasn't being serious!" 419 yelled.

As the pulsations through the floor ceased, Jumba snatched the communicator back from 419.

"How did _you_ rig a shuttle hyperdrive explosion?"

"I… er, well, I found the instructions in Jumba's ship database."

419 turned her glare from the communicator to Jumba, who had suddenly turned pale, his face wearing a rather sheepish look.

"You. Had. _Instructions?_"

Each word sliced through the air as a glarvin would through the air of Plorganaaf. Jumba gulped a little.

"Well… er…"

"Naga itsuka," said Stitch, cutting him off. He was right, blaming people wasn't the right way to do things.

But it made 419 feel better.

"Look, I-I-I am evil genius. What do you expect to be in evil genius database?"

Jumba was right as well, of course.

So, rather than replying, 419 satisfied herself with merely glaring in Jumba's general direction.


	50. Torn Asunder

**LIlo & Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 50: Torn Asunder**

Minutes earlier, 426 had been struggling to keep his grip on one of the steel pipes that lined the corridor. Gritting his teeth, he tried to pull himself forward, only to feel the tearing of metal against his claws as he was dragged back.

"Resistance is futile," cautioned Two of Seven as he gripped 426's foot, attempting to simultaneously tear him from the wall and convince him to let go since holding on was useless anyway. Suffice to say, the drone's arguments did not sway 426 in the slightest, and all the experiment did was grip the pipe tighter, if indeed that was at all possible.

At that moment, the faint sounds of plasma explosions floated across the corridor; 426 knew that meant that Pleakley had been successful in blowing at least _some_ stuff up. To what extent, he could not be sure, but it definitely didn't sound like a lot, and since the drones had not dropped what they were doing and left, so to speak, he surmised it was nowhere near enough damage for them to really care.

Looking back, he noticed that three of the drones that had been stalking him were now working at consoles in the cell; evidently they'd determined that two would be enough to capture him now that he was in their grasp.

Or something like that.

The second of the two had grabbed his other leg and was now helping its partner to try and pull 426 off of the wall. All he could do was cling on to that metal pipe, even as he felt his claws slowly splitting in two. He'd just have to grit his teeth and bear it.

Briefly, 426 wondered why they didn't just sedate him or something. They probably had the technology (426 reflected to himself that those arms of theirs were more multipurpose than a swiss army knife); why they didn't use it was completely beyond the poor experiment.

As he finished these thoughts, he realised for the second time in an hour that his legs were no longer being supported by anything, and with a loud and painful clang, his knees hit the floor.

Immediately, one of the drones who had dropped him lifted him back up by the shoulders. Spidery pipes shot out of the drone's hand; 426 saw that they had been thinking along similar lines as he had. He quickly shut his eyes, waiting for the (no doubt painful) process of unconsciousness to commence.

When it didn't come, he opened his eyes slightly. The drone, having retracted the tubule-thingies, had turned its attention towards, for reasons 426 couldn't possibly fathom, the steel wall that made up the other end of Jumba's cell.

He peeked behind him. The other drones had all stopped working their consoles - in fact, they'd stopped doing _anything_, really – and all were now looking in the same direction.

What was so interesting about the wall of Jumba's cell?

Perhaps something had disturbed them? Perhaps they'd heard something. Or maybe something a little more telepathic was going on. A warning?

Then he heard it – a loud rumbling sound, as if a hundred thousand bombs had gone off in the distance.

Had Pleakley actually succeeded?

426 mused to himself that it might have worked a little too well – if he'd had blown up life support… well, he could survive, but it'd be uncomfortable.

And then, all of suddenly, it felt as if the world had disappeared beneath his feet.

Wave after wave surged through the ground. Perhaps in surprise, the done released 426 and tried to brace itself – the next moment, 426 saw it stuck on its back with one of its legs severed, its arms waving wildly and its claw attachment clicking without rest. He himself was being bounced up and down like a beach ball, each bump causing his side to ache painfully.

What _had_ Pleakley done?

Eventually, the rumblings subsided. 426 picked himself up and surveyed the area – apart from the malfunctioning drone before him, there was no sign of the others. Perhaps they had managed to vacate the area?

His ears pricked. Something wasn't right.

He strained his hearing, trying to pick up what he had noticed. Try as he might, all he could hear was static.

Although, now that he thought of it, the static didn't quite _sound_ like static. It had a more fluid feeling, as opposed to static's sharp roughness. It almost sounded like gas escaping a not-quite airtight chamber…

And then, a sinking feeling welled up in his belly as he realised what the sound was.

"OK, 426, it's not as bad as it sounds," he told himself. "The wall's strong, I'm sure it can hold its integrity…"

He glanced at the wall in question. It now had a large crease across it, as if it had been some giant's paper airplane in a previous life.

"… that's just… a flesh wound! Yeah, it'll buff right ou…"

And then, the wall creaked. The sinking feeling was now joined by the feeling of having swallowed a bowling ball.

"OK, gotta get to the wall, gotta hold on to something," he muttered to himself.

The only thing was his feet didn't move. 426 groaned.

"C'mon, feet, don't fail me now!"

The wall creaked again, and his legs snapped out of their immobilisation; rushing towards the wall as fast as his feet could carry him, he gripped the metal pipe and braced himself.

No sooner had he done this, the wall ripped open.

At that moment, 426 felt an incredible force thrust against his body, as if some giant invisible hand was trying to push him far away. He closed his eyes and focused all his attention on maintaining his grip on to the metal pipe before him, despite the fact that he was being buffeted around like a flag in a hurricane. It was all he could do to hang on to the pipe.

With a roar, the entirety of the wall that five drones had been staring at minutes before tore itself asunder, leaving in its place a gaping hole, rasping at everything and everyone in the room. Opening his eyes for a brief moment, 426 watched with horror as the malfunctioning drone was swept up past him and, still forever clicking its claw, fell into the depths of the void that existed behind him, in the space where he daren't look, least he loose his concentration.

It was almost, thought 426, as if it were some kind of monster, attempting to suck stuff into its mouth for its evening meal, not caring what it ate as long as it was _something_,

As he felt his claws slipping through the cracks he'd made earlier in the pipes, he almost willed them to continue to hold on. If he let go, he will have failed everyone he'd ever cared about. He'd have failed Jumba, his creator. He'd have failed 419, his sister. He'd have failed Little Girl.

But he couldn't hold on for much longer.

He almost saw it happen in slow motion – the edge of his claw chipped, and then fell through the tear in the pipe. It sped away from him at what seemed to be faster than the fastest spaceship.

His final hopes were gone, and darkness rushed around him as he fell through the night.

* * *

"Are you _sure_?"

"Am positive." Jumba nodded his head. "There is far too much debris interfering with radar. I could not be telling one way or other if 426 is making it."

Awkward silence fell at the conclusion of this sentence. Jumba hated awkward silences. They gnawed at you, begging to be acknowledged, but no-one wanted to do it.

He'd have said some terrible things about him before. He wished he could take those words back, now more than ever.

"Don't worry, am positive he made it." He beamed, all four eyes blinking one after another. "He may be failure of experiment, but inside beats – er, how you say - heart of lion. He is as any other experiment I would be proud to call my own is."

More awkward silence. Jumba had hoped he could get 419 to say something, but she was silent.

He'd probably misspoken again.

At that moment, Jumba felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Stitch pointing down the passage, towards the depths of the ship.

"Lilo?"

Jumba nodded slowly.

"626 is right. We should be rescuing Little Girl – it's what he would want us to do." He pushed himself slowly to his feet. "If he is still having communicator, he will have received message and he'll know where to find us. If not…"

He pulled a translucent blue disc from his communicator and pressed it against the wall.

"This beacon transmits a high-pitched frequency that only experiments can be hearing."

Almost on cue, Stitch's ears twitched.

"See, 626 can be hearing it now!" He smiled, relieved – the last thing he needed right now was a malfunctioning probe.

"I can't hear it," stated 419 matter-of-factly, scrunching her nose.

"Yes, I thought so," Jumba replied. "Because of genetic inhibitors, your hearing is only slightly above average – however, 426 has no such inhibitors, so he should be able to pick it up fine. That's the best we can be doing for him for now."

He paused for a moment. He had just thought of something that _might_ just work.

"Er, Pleakley, try and run some scans on the ship to detect where 426 is, OK?"

"I'll try," said Pleakley through the communicator. "I mean, the shields are partially down, which means I can run scans through the ship, but the debris field is messing with the sensors."

Just as Jumba had feared. He sighed.

"Let me know if you are finding anything. Jumba, out."

He pressed the screen, which, with a final beep, switched off, and placed it in his shirt pocket.

"Right, then, we should be heading off. 419?"

419 nodded, with a slight smile on her face. Jumba hoped that this meant she was now speaking to them.

He hoped he had given her enough hope to continue. The two experiments had been practically inseparable from the moment they'd met, and he knew how much they meant to each other.

But most of all, he hoped his little experiment was safe and sound. He hadn't lost a single experiment thus far – not to the council, not to age or illness, not from weapons fire, and certainly not as a result of explosive decompression.

More than that, he knew every experiment – their number and function, and each of their personalities. He had poured his very life into the experiment project, so losing even one to the depths of space… well, just the thought was terrifying.

Then again, he'd thought there wasn't any hope of escaping. He was wrong about that. Perhaps hope was the enabler. Perhaps they'd escaped because the others had hoped they would.

Perhaps amazing things could be done when you believed they could.


	51. New Guests and Old Shipmates

**A/N:** While writing this chapter, I'd realised that while I've described Captain Jameston in this fic, I haven't done so for her main crew. Time to rectify that, methinks!

* * *

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek**  
**Chapter 51: New Guests and Old Shipmates**

It would probably be redundant to say that the Borg Queen was, by now, very used to billions of voices in her ear, jabbering about everyone and everything all at once. Her mind continually prioritised information and tactics from and to millions of drones and vessels, sending and receiving vast streams of data every second. She was, essentially, constantly playing hundreds of games of Othello on an enormous scale, with no total endgame in sight.

What she was not used to doing was losing. Not only that, but losing to an inferior species with inadequate resources to withstand them. And what annoyed her most was that the species had the _gall_ to _continue_ to do so, at almost every opportunity they could get.

Every loss felt as if a knife had been taken to her head - with every drone that died and was not replaced, she lost a part of the multifaceted network of processing power. She lost, in essence, a part of herself.

And this time, she felt it particularly well.

She had just made some projections on the assimilatability of north Canada when it happened. First she heard reports from the tactical droids – some pathetic ship that had only barely been resisting them was attempting to make yet another run on the cube. A small fraction of the ship had been destroyed, yes, but the few drones lost were nothing. She had assimilated orders of magnitude more beings somewhere else in the last minute.

And then came the scatted warnings. An explosion had occurred, and none of the drones that had reported it could predict what the extent of the damage would be.

Then she heard the readings. Some of the drones had been able to analyse the spectrum of the blast before it had caught up with them. The readings indicated elements that were involved in the construction of early Galactic Federation starship. Other reports suggested temperatures in excess of 15,000 degrees Celcius.

How had it made it past the shields? The configuration of the ships in question were not unknown to the Borg, since they had encountered members of the Federation as early as 2067, performing… what was it? Ah, yes, deep-space scientific research and exploration. As far as she could tell, they had not changed much in the sixty years beforehand.

Speaking of which, the shields for quarter of the ships was now down. How could that be? How hadn't the redundant shield generators kicked in?

She didn't receive a reply.

Instead, the Queen felt a powerful pulse run through her, a wave of sadness and regret from hundreds of minds.

And the minds were calling out to her.

Calling for help. Calling for their mothers or fathers, for their theological guides, for _anyone._

And then, screaming.

Thousands of minds were screaming, screaming all at once, screaming in her ear, for the pain to end.

And then they were silenced.

All this happened in a matter of seconds.

"Dammit! What was _that?_"

The sickly face of the Borg Queen poured over the screens in front of her. It was that ship… that Galactic Federation cruiser. The _Dakana_. She should have destroyed it when she had the chance.

"Blast that Jumba! " Her fist slammed the wall in front of her. "I thought he'd been captured!"

_A hyperdrive coil of unknown configuration caused the explosion. Its power readings were disguised._

Finally, the minds of the Collective had recovered and were up to speed. Maybe now she could get some answers.

_Twenty-nine percent of the the ship has been rendered inoperable, a further thirty-two percent with a significant decrease in efficiency. Overall effectiveness down thirty-four percent. Atmospheric compression in affected area restored._

"Yes, but what about Jumba?"

_The whereabouts of Jumba Jookiba are unknown. All data from the unimatrix assigned to guard Jumba Jookiba lost._

"Dammit!" she repeated. Things were not going well.

_Jumba Jookiba sighted in Section Two-Zero-Five accompanied by two members of Species 117. Sending units to eng…_

"No, we'll send our… _guest_." She smirked as she uttered the words, thinking of the delicious irony. It was such a _human_ concept, but it was one the Borg understood well.

Footsteps. Her chain of thought now broken, she turned to face the intruder.

"I told you you were wasting too much time on Lilo."

The Queen felt offended by this suggestion. Part of perfection was knowing how long and how much was enough for each and every task.

"Nonsense," she smiled, delighting herself for a moment in the thoughts of assimilating her shadowy companion. He had served his purpose, what need did she have of him?

The creature flinched ever so slightly; it must have sensed this line of thought forming in the Queen's mind.

"Look, why don't I just deal with them myself? I know Jumba and his… _experiments_. I can predict what they'll do."

He emphasised the word 'experiments' with a level of disgust and hatred, as if the very word was a revolting concept.

The Borg Queen thought about this for a millisecond. Perhaps she _should_ humour the poor thing before she assimilated it.

"Fine, fine… but _only_ if our friend doesn't succeed. Understand?"

The creature saluted, and turned to leave.

"Although," he said, pausing for a moment, "grudges aren't a healthy thing, especially one so old. Sometimes one should just move on, least it may destroy you."

She faltered at this suggestion. She had no time for such nonsense. "We have no concepts of resentment or revenge. We merely seek to improve ourselves, and to eliminate the unfit."

The creature shrugged. "Just a warning," he said. "Nothing more."

And with those final words, he left.

* * *

"Come on, people, this way!"

With a wave of her hand, Captain Jameston motioned for her landing party to follow her down the passageway. After her, phaser rifle held cautiously before her chest, walked Teresa Bamez.

Teresa was a bushy brown-haired woman of similar statue to her captain, although compared to Jameston's rather pale complexion, her skin was a fair way darker. She wore the same black vest that everyone in her crew wore, although hers was topped with the mustard-amber stripe that signified she was an engineer (in this case, chief of ship operations), as opposed to her captain and pilot, which each wore a deep wine-like red, or the seaweed-blue that the science and medical officers wore.

If Teresa was attempting to hide her uneasiness, she was doing a rather poor job of it – almost on tiptoes, her hands shook nervously each time she stepped forward. Frankly, Jameston didn't blame her – the first (and last) time they had been on a ship of the Borg, they had almost not gotten away - if it hadn't been for the heroic sacrifice of one of their team, they would have not made it at all.

She still thought about her sometimes, when moments were still and silent. No-one deserved that fate. _No one_.

But she was _not_ prepared to abandon that Delta Quadrant ship, nor let the same thing happen to its' inhabitants.

Following Bamez was a slightly shorter woman, wearing the same mustard-striped uniform. She had short black –and very straight – hair, and her complexion was, all things considered, about midway between Bamez and Jameston. She held her rifle firm, and walked with short but steady steps that echoed briefly down the hallway.

This was Ensign Ming, the tactical and communications officer. Jameston could often sense a feeling of unnerving calm around Ming, and it had been that which had made her essential in situations like these.

In her footsteps was a Hawaiian native who was slightly taller than Bamez, wearing the wine-red striped uniform that signified command. She had stowed her phaser in her pocket, but her hand was hovering over it, ready to pull it out if need be.

This was the ship's pilot, Ensign Malo. If truth be told, _technically_ she should still be piloting the ship, but as Ensign Grey was more than qualified to pilot, Jameston was sure no-one would mind her (very minor) rule bending.

Bringing up the rear was a pink-toned blond-haired ponytailed woman, also wearing a yellow-striped vest – Ellie Ericson, the chief of security on the _USS Serenity_, confidently strode down the passage, phaser firmly pointed forward.

Each one huddled around a corner as they waited for everyone to catch up. When they had, and Jameston had gyven the all clear signal, off they went again.

"Right, Teresa, where to from here?" Jameston asked.

"Gah!" Teresa jumped visibly at the sound of her captain's voice. Jameston was beginning to have second thoughts – her skill with technology was second-to-none among the remaining crew, but she might make a mistake that would cost them if she stayed in the state she was in.

"Er… well, we g-g-go left, and then pass thr-three p-passageways, left, and r-right again, I guess…"

Jamston tried to put a reassuring face on.

"Are you OK? Because if you're not, I can have Miles beam you back, and you can co-ordinate the search from the brid-"

"I'm fine." Her brow furrowed as a look of determination formed on her face. 'I can do this."

"Right." Jameston was unsure about this declaration, but didn't want to press the issue. If the worst came to the worst, she could always beam her back at a moment's notice.

"Well. Then I guess we can…."

But then she stopped, putting her arm out to indicate to the others to halt as well. A familiar voice floated through the air, punctuated by one that wasn't as familiar – that of a female.

_"Look, I am merely sayink that ve vould 'ave better luck vith the EM band over five-hundred megahertz."_

_"Well, I'm not so sure. I seem to remember quite a few of your gadgets operate below five-hundred megahertz…"_

_"Zats because ze are being older models!"_

Another voice, a long raspy one, joined in.

_"Oy, chunga bey…"_

As the three unknown beings conversed, Jameston motioned for the four to follow her towards the source of the noise. Slowly they moved down the corridor, until they found themselves at the juncture out of which the voices were coming.

"On three," instructed Jameston, motioning with her phaser towards the corridor. The others nodded.

"One, two, _three!_"

And they took positions in front of the corridor, all aiming towards the two aliens, who had abruptly stopped as suddenly as they could.

"Wait… Jumba?"

"Hey, it's Older Captain Girl!" Jumba seemed relieved that it wasn't someone else.

"_Older_?" She hadn't thought she looked _that_ old.

"Don't worry, he calls every adult that." The other alien, a short furry pink one with violet hair and sea-blue glasses, nodded as if to confirm her statement.

"This is 419," Jumba introduced the experiment. "She is my, how you say, assistant."

"Really?" Teresa's eyes lit up as she seemingly forgot where she was. "What's her prim…"

She promptly stopped when she noticed the look Jameston had shot over her shoulder.

"Er, I mean… she sounds quite bright."

"Why, thank you," replied 419.

"Yes, 419 was always being curious type," said Jumba, evidently proud of the work he had done with her. "And this –" he pointed to the roof, where a blue creature, almost a cross between a crab and a dog, was clinging to the ceiling. "This is my evil genius experiment, 626, a keen fighter and the height of my scientific research in genetic mutation."

The blue thing dropped from the ceiling onto its feet, and gave a bow, offering its hand.

"Aloha, 626," Jameston said, shaking his hand. Malo put her hand to her mouth, and Teresa looked as if she had interrupted a chortle suddenly.

"Aloha," the alien replied, evidently not noticing the reaction of the other two. "And mahalo, Jumba."

"No problem at all, 626!"

"Well, I'm Vi Jameston," the Captain introduced, " and this is my crew: Teresa Barmez, ops; Ensign 'Yuks' Ming, tactical and comm.; Ensign 'Mips' Malo, pilot; and Ellie Ericson, chief of security."

"Nice to be making the pleasure," Jumba greeted them. 419 meekly waved a bit, while Stitch bowed again.

"Well, anyway, we are here to be finding Little Girl, who was taken from us by evil cybonetic creatures," continued Jumba, as if this kind of thing happened on a regular basis. "Where are you headed?"

"Well, we detected that one of your crew were beamed aboard the Borg cube, so we decided to help you guys out." She was relieved he had brought up the subject first – it had made it significantly easier to come up with something, and it wasn't too far from the truth. "So, should we go our separate ways? We would cover more ground that way."

Jumba rubbed his chin. "Well, we have a fairly good idea where she is being, but you are welcome to help."

"Right, so, we'll let you know if we find Lil- er, the little girl then."

Jameston took a breath, then mentally scoulded herself. The smallest mistake could cost them their trust.

But Jumba nodded, evidently satisfied. And then he paused, as if he had just thought of something.

"Oh, if you could look out for little green experiment, about the same height as 419 here, but with long ears like carrot-eating Earth-animal, 'twould be most excellent."

Jameston smiled and sighed with relief, glad the question wasn't about her slip of the tounge. "OK, we'll do that."

At this moment, the pink experiment frowned, wrinkling her nose in the process.

"What's the problem, er… 419, was it?" asked the Captain.

"Yes." She straightened her glasses. "Anyway, how di-"

"I think," interrupted Jumba, perhaps a little too quickly, "that we should be off. 419, you can tell me what you wanted to say on the way."

"But-" 419 protested.

"I _really think_ we should be_ going_," he said, in a manner that suggested that there was something he didn't want said in front of Jameston or her crew.

"No problems then, we'll be on our way." Jameston gestured for her crew to continue where they were headed. "We'll be seeing you again, then."

"If everything works out," agreed Jumba. "Farewell, then."

"Farewell," said Jameston, and with that she left after her crew.


	52. Explanations and Preperations

**A/N:** Is that a climax building? In _my_ story? Inconcievable! :D Suffice to say, there's not long now to the finish, so hold on to your hats, ladies and gentlemen!

On a more chapter-specific note, more Pleakley is always a good thing, and I haven't used him enough in this fic, so there's a bit of Pleakley-orientated story in this chapter to make up a little for that.

* * *

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 52: Explanations and Preparations**

"Why did you stop me, Jumba?"

Experiment 419 folded her arms and looked up at Jumba as the group continued walking.

"Because I knew what you were going to say – I had noticed it myself – and I was thinking that we shouldn't annoy any potential friends until we have Little Girl and 426 safe."

419 glared at Jumba. "How could you know-"

Jumba raised his hand, and 419 promptly fell silent. "You were going to ask how they are knowing Little Girl's or my name, despite not having mentioned it," replied Jumba, as 419's mouth fell open. "Could tell from context, and the way you looked at Captain Girl."

"Well, ya, but-"

Jumba turned his head slightly, and the light from one of the power distribution nodes reflected off his eyes, making them glimmer in the dimness. "Is what I would ask if were in a better position, but now is not the time to be questioning loyalty of those who are offering us aid."

"But they seem-"

Jumba gave 419 a stern look. "I would not be provoking them. They are having energy weapons and military training. At best, we have a few blasters and 626. And while he is kick-butt fighter" – here, Stitch gave a giant grin – "a match for all of them together? I am not thinking so much."

419 frowned. Stitch took on lots of those Borg thingies, why not them?

"Ahem," coughed Stitch, tapping 419 on the shoulder. "419? Meega ika baka-dooka ika, kara itsuka naga maka'moki. Nara'kara, itsuka maka'ba, kara tamoki ogat'ika."

As he talked, he fiddled with his thumbs, gesturing to illustrate his points. Jumba slowly nodded in agreement when he had finished.

"Okay, I think I've got it," 419 said, giving him a thumbs up. "Thanks, Stitch."

"Naga chuuta," replied Stitch.

"Anyway," continued Jumba, a sly grin forming on his face, "would be spoilers, no?"

"Spoilers?" 419 unfolded her arms in surprise. "Doctor Song, is that you?"

The three burst out into laughter. Doctor Song had been a female researcher who visited the Galaxy Defence Agency from time to time When anyone had asked why she was there, all she'd do was say 'Spoilers!' and be on her way – in fact, so reliable was her answering with that word that it had become an in-joke among the top scientists there.

"Well, there's quite enough of that for the time being," said Jumba, a chortle still evident in his voice."419, how close are we being?"

419 pulled her PADD out from a strap hidden under her hair and tapped on its screen for a few seconds.

"Not long now. Right turn here."

She pointed down an offshooting corridor, her stylus still held tightly in her hand.

As they proceeded down the alley, 419 began to feel uneasy. There was something strange about the last few areas they had been in. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it was bugging her to no end.

Suddenly, Stitch stopped and pricked his ears.

"Um… Jumba? I… hear… naga."

Jumba paused as well, tuning on his heel. "I am not hearing anything either, but it nothing to worr-"

He stopped himself in mid-sentence, the familiar grim look of realisation spreading over his face.

"I am not hearing anything. There should be sound."

419 listened. Sure, there was the occasional beep, and a constant, but very low, vibrating noise, but apart from that, there was nothing.

All of a sudden, it hit 419 exactly what had been bugging her.

"We haven't seen any of those cyborg creatures for a while."

Before they had been buzzing around the ship, meaning that 419 and 426 had had to continuously dodge their footsteps. Now, the hallways and alcoves were empty.

Had the shockwave caused so much damage that they were all now repairing the damage? From what 419 had seen of them, they seemed to distribute work evenly throughout the ship… but even so, there should be _some_ kind of skeleton crew of sorts in this section. Seeing nothing felt… well, _unnerving_.

"This _may_ be a trap," muttered Jumba, voicing what was on each of their minds. "We should be very careful."

But they nervously continued onwards anyway, unaware, even if they did suspect it, that they were being watched.

* * *

Pleakley scampered quickly across the bridge of the _Dakana_, pressing all kinds of nobs and buttons. At this moment, he was optimising the scan parameters, based on his astrometrics studies, to give them a good balance between detail and time. Once that was finished, he slumped in Jumba's chair, so as to rest for a moment while he thought of a way to bring everyone back, once they had finished.

One of the shuttles had been destroyed, at least according to 419, so that was a no go; the other, he had just used to trigger the large explosion that had rocked the Borg cube. He knew Jumba had been working on some kind of teleport for quite a while based on his work with food dispenses, but the plans were back in his lab, three-hundred years ago and several light-years away.

And besides, he'd had too much experience with Jumba's experimental procedures to know he couldn't trust that it wouldn't transport only half of him or him into a solid wall or something.

There was nothing else to it. He tapped a few buttons, and up on the window was projected a communications link, buzzing with static.

A moment later, and the static was replaced by an unfamiliar face – pale, slightly angled, and a little mischievious looking, topped by a messy mop of short brown hair.

"Hello, this is Acting-Captain Grey of the USS _Serenity_. How may I…"

He paused for a moment, his eyes flickering around the scene.

"Er, are you the only one aboard?"

"Yes, the others are on the Borg cube. They've gone to rescue a friend," replied Pleakley.

Grey grasped his chin, stroking it somewhat, as if he were thinking about something. "Just like our captain, I see. So, how may I help you?"

"I was wondering… _hoping_… that you had some kind of means of transporting between ships. You see, all our shuttles are kaput, and-"

"Say no more," replied Grey, holding up a hand. "We have this technology called a transporter. It essentially transports your body from one place to another."

While Pleakley didn't feel as if he was being talked down to, he _did_ feel that that last explanation had been unnecessary. "I'm familiar with the concept, although to us it's merely theory."

"Ah, then." He glanced to the side slightly. "Would you like a demonstration?"

"Would I?" Pleakley exclaimed – he'd long heard the theories proposed, but to see one in operation…

He needed to be calm. "I mean, if it's no bother." There.

The captain tapped his comm. badge, smirking as he did so. "Miles, the guy on the other ship would like a demonstration, so… one to beam up."

"Rodger," a voice on the other ship's speakers echoed.

Suddenly, Pleakley felt a tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach. He glanced down to find his body encircled by particles of blue light, brightly spinning around and around.

"No, wait, I didn't mean me! Ahhhh!"

By now, his body had begun to shimmer in the same blue-coloured light. Pleakley closed his eye – he didn't want to see his body dematerialise, since he feared he'd be sick if he had, and that would probably serve a bad impression for the crew of the _Serenity_.

The tingling feeling lasted only seconds. When it had ceased, Pleakley noticed that the ground beneath him felt far more flexible than the steel floor of Jumba's ship.

He slowly opened his eye. He was standing on some sort of glass-like material, lit by several small lights surrounding large, dim circular pads. There were seven of these pads – likely they were teleport pads, and thus there was one for each person.

He looked up. A man in a yellow uniform, with a rather tough-looking face and scruffy blond hair, waved at him. Pleakley nervously waved back.

"We've got him, Captain." He tapped his comm. badge and looked up st Pleakley, quickly surveying him from head to toe.

"Follow me," he finally asked, walking in front of the steel door. With a whoosh, it quickly opened in front of him, and closed just as quickly when he had gone through.

With a deep breath, Pleakley stepped off the teleport platform and waited in front of the door. It opened as it had done for the man named Miles, and Pleakley walked through.

The starship _Serenity_ was very different from Jumba's ship in a number of ways. For one thing, it was absolutely _massive_. The floors were mainly lined with wide, but empty, corridors lined with more doors than one could shake a splonk at, and those corridors went on for at least a kilometre, if not more,

Another thing that was different was that everything seemed… well, sleek and professional, right down to the flat-panel screens in the wall. Jumba's ship felt more homely, messy and raw, both in the materials used, in the finish, and in how everything was organised.

The size of the ship was further emphasised when the two had arrived at the elevator (to which Miles refered to as a 'turbolift'.)

"Hold the handle, er…"

"Agent Pleakley, former head of Earth Studies at the Galactic Federation," said Pleakley, with a hint of pride in his voice, as he held out his hand in the way accorded by custom.

"Miles Delarky, transporter chief of the _Serenity_," replied Miles Delarky, shaking Pleakley hand rather vigorously. "Say, I haven't heard of this 'Galactic Federation' before – is it new?"

"Er… no." Pleakley mentally scoulded himself – he should have made something up. "It's, um, relatively old… it's just, they keep to, well, themselves."

Miles gave him an odd look, but otherwise didn't question it. "So, Agent, hold the handle please."

Pleakley did as he was told, his finger fumbling with the button.

Miles took a hold of a handle next to him. "Computer, first floor."

The lift vroomed into action, bright lights speeding past them outside.

"You know," said Miles suddenly, "we were going to have these lifts retrofitted for LCARS, like most of the ship – those handles are the old interface, and they're still hooked up to the old library computer. And Leo and K.T. – Leonard Bilsky and Kathie Turell – they were just enthusiastic as clams about getting to do it. Well, that's before…"

He trailed off, suddenly saddened by some unknown thought. And although the man had said nothing, Pleakley knew what he meant.

"Never whole again," he murmered. It had been something Jumba had said to him once, although he'd long forgotten the circumstances.

"Anyway, life goes on, right?" replied Miles, the sound of faux cheer in his voice. "Well, here's the bridge."

And indeed, the elevator had stopped.

Pleakley stepped in front of the doors, waited for them to openm and then walked through them.

The bridge was the same as much of the rest of the ship, Flat screen panels adorned the walls, with people standing on the ready to use them. In front were two control panels at either side of the viewscreen – one manned by a person in a red shirt, the other by one in a yellow.

At the center of the room, a long black control panel severed the room in two, and below it was the captain and, presumably, first officer's chair. The captain's chair, despite being rather bulky, was fixed attached to kind of swivel device, while the first officer's was fixed to the floor. All the chairs in the room looked rather comfortable, with a cushiony section where the seat and back was.

As his eye returned to the center of the room, the captain swivelled around to greet him.

"Ah, yes. So, Mr… Plackly, was it?"

"Pleakley, sir."

"Right. Well, Mr Pleckly, we _can_ transport you and your friends off the Borg ship when you need to, but the trouble is we'll need to know their co-ordinates. Miles can give you a comm. badge – they have tracking devices in them – but it'd best if you meet at a known location. We'll store the co-ordinates into a tricorder and-"

"Hang on, tricorder?" Pleakley inquired.

"Oh, a handheld scanner that can also store information. Anyway, if you and your team could meet at those co-ordinates, we can get you off the ship with a lot more certainty. Okay?"

"I'll try," agreed Pleakley, although with a bit of apprehension in his voice. What did 'a lot more certainty' entail?

"Okay, all set then. Milers'll give you anything you need. And one more thing," he said, looking directly into Pleakley's eye. "Good luck."

"Thank you."

And with that, Pleakley walked back towards the elevator, summoning up all his courage for what lay ahead. After all, his friends needed him, and he didn't want to let them down, now when it counted most. Not again.

* * *

**A language note**: When he spoke Tantalog in this chapter, Stitch was explaining to 419 that the reason why he could take on the drones is because they move quite slowly, while the crew of the _Serenity_ were sure to be agile and quick.


	53. Safety

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
****Chapter 53: Safety**

Rubble.

If one were to look down Area 24 of Section 183 of the Borg cube, one would see that rubble was a common sight. Metal, twisted from the sheer pressure exerted from escaping air, lay strewn about the bent and cracked floor. Some of the walls had areas torn away from the strain, with rubbery piping spewing out. Devices sparked and flickered, and screens were showered with static. A few bodies could be seen, as cold and sickly-looking as they had been while alive, brought to the area by the flow of oxygen and deposited when the shields had been brought online, cutting it off from the low pressure of space it had longed to disperse itself amongst.

But among the decadence and decay lay a small green furry body with long ears and a patch of lime-coloured fur around one eye. Slumped along a wall, it wasn't moving; nor did it make any sound to penetrate the silence that surrounded it for hundreds of metres.

But then, the foot of Experiment 426 twitched

One of his eyes opened.

"Urgh…"

He drew his head forwards and held his forehead in one hand. He had a massive headache, from what he could only guess, and he couldn't feel his right arm. Which, he supposed, was a good thing, since his left arm felt as if someone had plunged a skewer through it.

Lifting his head, he surveyed the area. Why was he here? In fact, where _is_ here? The last thing he remembered was being on the astrometrics deck of Jumba's ship and the weird zombie alien and Jumba warning them to hide…

Then it came to him.

_He was watching the doorway from the laundry shoot when in walked what he'd supposed was Little Girl fell through the elevator door, followed by Jumba, Pleakley and 626._

The drone had left so suddenly. What was it looking for? And that girl…

_Stitch was whispering in his ear, telling him what had happened to the Little Girl._

She was in danger! He had to rescue her.

He stood up as quick as he could. What was he doing, just sitting around in… wherever her was? He had to go find her!

Almost immediately, he regretted this decision as his head began to pound. _Gah!_ He clutched it in agony, willing the pain to go away.

_They were on a shuttle with 626… The computer was being a pain to 419… they found an entrance…_

426 released his cranium and glanced at his left arm. It had been cut somehow; the fur around the wound stained purple. 426 grimaced – he didn't like seeing blood, much less his own.

The gash was not long, but it stung like nothing else.

He looked around. This must be the ship of the zombie aliens, although it had been clear that some cataclysm had struck it. Masses of metal lay around in no order at all – in _chaos_. 419 would probably make some remark about…

Four-One-Nine. She's here too, she has to be.

"Sis! Where are you?"

The only sound that answered was a mechanical clicking noise. The repetitive nature of the sound suggested some kind of malfunction.

_They had found Jumba's cell. 426 caused a distraction, and then 419 jumped down…_

"Jumba?" In spite of his efforts to keep his voice consistent, it was clearly wavering.

No one answered his call.

With a prick, his ear twitched. 426 listened hard, but at first could hear nothing but the click-click-click of the malfunctioning drone's hand. Another prickle. 426 strained his ears, but still couldn't hear what was bothering him.

By the next prick, he had noticed that his ear was twitching in a regular pattern. He concentrated carefully, focusing all his attention into listening for the sound that had to have accompanied the twitch of his ear.

He heard it. There was a beeping noise.

There it was again.

The gears in his brain worked. The sound was familiar. But what from?

Beep.

It was the beeping noise from a Galactic Federation homing beacon.

_No, it couldn't be._ 426 was certain it was another injury causing a ringing sound. Yes, that sounded right.

_First_, said a nagging female voice in the back of his brain, _you don't get beeping noises from injury. Yes, that's a beeping noise, not a ringing one._

426 didn't exactly care for this distinction; to him it was one without a difference – it was a sound, it was faint, it was repetitive, and it was bugging him.

_Anyway,_ continued the voice (which, 426 realised, sounded a lot like his sister), _it would be rather easy to test. Block your ears and see if the noise is gone._

Great. 426 had enough problems listening to 419 ranting in front of him. All he needed was a 419 _in_ his head as well. Worse, it was probably his logical side talking - did it bode well for his psyche that it had adopted 419's voice?

426 blocked one ear with his right hand (which had begun to regain a small amount of feeling.) He then made to block his other ear.

"Gah!" he yelled, swiftly grabbing his left arm with his right as pain rippled through it. Obviously, moving his left arm was a bad idea.

He decided to compromise by holding both of his ears with one hand. This generated a slight tingling sensation at the base of one of the ears, but 426 could live with that.

He listened. There was nothing.

_So, obviously, it's not an injury, and you're not imagining things!_ said his logical side. This gave him little comfort, especially since he was essentially listening to – and taking orders from – himself. Whatever had happened, it had obviously knocked a few marbles loose.

Letting go of his ears, he sighed a little. Jumba setting off a beacon meant that he didn't know where 426 was, which probably meant he was outside the communicator's scan radius, which probably meant he was quite a fair bit away. Walking would probably take hours to catch up.

But still, he had to try. Little Girl was in trouble.

He had to do it, for everyone, and for her.

And so, with his mind made up, and making sure he kept his left arm still, he started off, jogging at a steady pace, hoping that they weren't too far, and that it wouldn't be too long until he caught up with them.

* * *

Running.

Pleakley didn't feel safe on this ship, not all by himself, not with cybernetic creatures roaming the hallways. To play it safe, he had decided not to stay in one place for very long, and that meant running.

CRASH.

Pleakley's running was interrupted by him slamming into someone, as slamming into people often does. Falling to the floor face-up, he hoped it wasn't a drone; the last thing he needed or wanted was to be assimilated. Being assimilated isn't very good, not very good at all; in fact, it was the opposite of very good – it was very bad! Which was precisely why Pleakley wished to avoid it.

"Are you okay, Mr… er, Plackly, is it?"

Pleakley opened his eye. He was still slightly dazed, so his vision was somewhat blurry, however he could see a rather familiar figure hovering above him - a young girl with firery-red hair…

It couldn't be.

He shook his head, and his vision refocused. Instead of the girl stood Captain Jameston, an unsure look about her face.

To be fair, she did have the same hairstyle, the same colour…

But he must have been imagining things.

"Captain Jameston!" He propped himself up with one elbow, holding his other arm out to the captain. "I seem to be fine, yes."

Jameston grabbed Pleakley's arm and hoisted him to his feet. Pleakley could feel her overcompensating – obviously, he had been lighter than she expected.

"Wow," she said, once Pleakley had a clear footing with all of his feet. "Y'know, I used to speculate how much a Plorgarian weighed, back in my youth, but you… my estimates were nowhere near this light."

"Huh." Pleakley found this observation odd, at best, since it was rather incidental to what were clearly more urgent matters. For instance, their impending doom.

"Well, Mr. Plackly…" started the Captain.

"Er, it's Pleakley, actually," corrected Pleakley, hints of nervousness in his voice.

"Ah, yes. Mr. Pleakley, I presume you are looking for Lilo Pelekai as well?"

"Why, have you found her?" exclaimed Pleakley, his already high-pitched voice going even higher in excitement."

"Sadly, no."

Pleakley's face fell.

"However," continued Jameston quickly, as if wanting to head off his feelings of sadness, "we have picked up some promising signals – there's far more subspace communication in this area than in any other we've detected. We think it might be the Queen's locus."

Pleakley gave a small smile. At least there was _some_ hope.

And then he remembered why he was there.

"Er, Captain, you wouldn't have happened to have seen…"

"Jumba and two experiments?" The Captain smiled. "Yeah, they were… Ellie, how far back did we meet them?"

A blond-haired girl behind the Captain turned around to face the two. "Er, that would be two lefts, a right, and a straight ago, Vi. I believe they went left from there."

"Thanks, Els." She glanced back at the yellow alien before her. "Mr. Pleakley, that'll mean you can take the first right down this corridor, then the next right, then straight until you hit the T junction. Your friends would have taken the left exit. Good lu-"

"C-c-captain, I just p-picked up a s-s-surge in subspace s-sig-signals," stuttered one of the crew from further along the hallway.

"Excellent!" Captain Jameston brimmed with excitement. "Teresa, Malo! Follow that signal, we need to find the source! But be cautious!"

The stuttery woman and one of the other members of the crew saluted and rushed down the hallway.

"OK, Mr. Pleakley, are you sure you'll be fine by yourself?"

"Y-yes, thank you." To tell the truth, Pleakley wasn't sure at all, but he didn't want to interrupt their work. Jameston raised an eyebrow slightly, but otherwise said nothing about it.

"Right then. We have to be off, but I hope we see each-other again. Fare-thee well!"

She briskly shook the alien's hand, and then motioned for her remaining crew to follow her.

"Ming, Ellie, we need to back them up. Come on!"

And then they left Pleakley alone in the corridor.

Alone wasn't very good.

So Pleakley began to run in the other direction. Running was the only way he could stay sane when he was alone about this place. If he walked or stayed in one place, he was sure he'd loose hic cool. And losing one's cool wasn't good, not here of all places.

Besides, there were still evil cybernetic zombies about.

So running, it seemed to Pleakley, was still the best idea. And so, following the path that Jameston had laid out, Pleakley ran.


	54. Corruption

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek**  
**Chapter 54: Corruption**

Pshh. Pshh. Pshh.

At first, Experiment 419 didn't notice the sound at all. After all, from a distance, it blended in well with the sound of gas escaping from pipes, the sparks of frayed electrical wiring, the hum of the ship in motion, and various other ambient background noises.

Pshh. Pshh. Pshh.

Then, Experiment 626 stopped for a moment. He poked Jumba's arm.

"Jumba, so'ta'ka!"

Jumba stopped as well, so suddenly that 419 walked right into his leg.

She stumbled backwards, instinctively rubbing her forehead as she did.

"Ow! What gives-?"

"Shh, little one." Looking up at Jumba's rather plum-like head, she saw that he had closed his eyes as if he was trying to concentrate on something.

Suddenly, he grabbed both experiments' hands. "Quickly, hide!"

"Wha-?"

426 had no choice but to comply as she and 626 were pulled into an offshooting corridor.

"Are you hearing that?" Jumba whispered, crouching down beside the two so the console they were hiding behind would give them sufficient protection from being seen.

"Ih!" Experiment 626 said, nodding very quickly.

"Er…"

419 still couldn't hear anything out of the ordinary. Sure, there was the gas, the humming, the sparks, the sound of at least one drone at work, but-

Wait. They hadn't seen _any_ drones for at least the past hour.

Pshh. Pshh. Pshh,

That was unmistakably the sound of a drone's leg piston. And it was getting closer.

"I hear it, Jumba."

"Now," he continued, briefly checking over the top of the console to see if any drones had arrived, "from my observation it is unusual for an entire area to be devoided of drones. It is also unusual that a drone not be part of the group as a functioning part of the whole. It is therefore my suspicion that whoever is coming is either only pretending to be a drone, or is important enough in the hierarchy that they have been sent intentionally to meet with us."

"Er Jumba," replied 426, "that reasoning is somewhat fl-"

"I know, there are gaps in our knowledge and therefore I am making assumptions," interrupted Jumba. "But I am having a hunch that this is being right, and as a scientist, sometimes you have to be going with your gut."

419 opened her mouth to respond, but then closed it again. Jumba had often relied on his gut before, and while sometimes it was wrong, quite often it was right. Indeed, he had sometimes remarked that his gut had saved his – as well as their – neck quite a few times.

(All this 419 found odd for a gastrointestinal organ, but she wasn't that familiar with Jumba's physiology so she could always be wrong with that regard.)

The noises suddenly stopped, and 419 felt a chill up her spinal column. Something wasn't right.

"There's something familiar about that drone's pacing," muttered Jumba to himself.

The sounds had resumed their march. They could not be more than a few hundred metres away, by 419's calculation.

"Yes, something familiar," continued Jumba's mutterings. "It's much shorter than the other drones, which would probably indicate faster pacing, except the piston is obviously shorter, as indicated by a weaker sound, and the footsteps are lighter. And each step is the same – 32 microcelens long, about 12 microcelens shorter than almost every drone I've encountered."

He scratched his chin thoughtfully. And then, suddenly he paused.

"No. It could not be!"

"What is it Jumba?"

Jumba turned to 419, a very grim look on his face.

"I'm afraid the worst may have happened. You see-"

And then, a voice rung out – one both familiar in sound and alien in tone. One that 419 had only heard once before.

"Jumba Jookiba? Where are you? I know you're here."

The sound of the drone walking was now directly in front of them. They were only separated by at best a few meters, possibly more.

The drone stopped again. 419 moved to the right side of the console to get a better view – she wanted to confirm her suspicions of who the person was without being detected, and figured that the right side, beside the wall, was the best position to take.

What she saw gave her the feeling that someone had suddenly force-fed her some barbell weights.

A small figure stood in the doorway. Her midnight-black hair stood at chest-length, and her large brown eyes shone with the light of the slime-green power couplings. The object covering half her face appeared as if someone had made a Phantom of the Opera mask out of a circuit board – while it was black, layers of componentry lined the device, and a bright-red laser beamed from an instrument above her left eye. Her body, which otherwise resembled the body of a girl about eight years old, was covered with a tight-fitting black outfit, with various technological implements hiding most of the suit from view.

The look on that girl's face was not one of sympathy, or pity, or remorse – it was one of triumph, of conquest.

Although so much of the girl resembled the drones, there could be no mistaking who it was – or rather, who it had been. And if it were any other day, 419 would have sworn that, perhaps dressed in a Halloween outfit, it had been Little Girl herself standing before them.

The facsimile – it had to be a facsimile – tapped her foot, as if impatient that Jumba was not showing himself. 419 turned towards the other two – Stitch had not seen the person, but he was still shaking his head, muttering the word "naga" over and over again. He knew her voice all too well.

"It can't be her, right? It has to be a clone, or something…"

"I'm afraid," said Jumba, his voice now somewhat broken with emotion, "that it is, indeed, Little Girl."

"Little Girl's _clone!_" 419 grabbed his lab coat with frustration – he wasn't telling them what she wanted to hear. "_Tell me_ it's Little Girl's _clone_. _Please._"

She released the coat and sat back down, looking up at Jumba, her eyes begging him to lie to her, or to mislead her, or tell her he was joking, or _something_ that would mean Little Girl's fine, she wasn't standing in front of them, she hadn't transformed into some evil robot thing, and she wasn't – essentially – dead.

"_Please._"

Jumba shook his head sadly. 419 knew the one thing he could not do was lie to his experiments on matters of this importance – but that didn't make her feel better.

"But-"

"Jumba, I've tracked your communicator beacon to somewhere in this area," the impostor said. "Why don't you make this easier and come out from where you're hiding, eh?"

"Look, we can't… we shouldn't let our… p-personal feelings get… get in the way," Jumba whispered. "That's exactly how people are getting…. getting assimilated." He looked side to side, as if afraid of what he was to say next. "If we are needing to, we have to c-consider the possibility… for her own good, to end… to be ending her suffering. Being a B-borg is a worse fate than I'd… than I'd wish on m-my worse… my greatest enemy."

419's jaw dropped open. What Jumba was implying was terrifying – yes, they'd always known the trip would be risky, but the suggestion of not only failing to bring back everyone but _intentionally_ doing so in such a ruthless manner was…

"Jumba, you _can't_ do that. Not _ever_, not while there's a chance…"

"It would be only last… final resort. If all else fails-"

"No. _Please_, Jumba."

419 looked to Stitch for backup, but Stitch was looking back and forth between the direction the voice was coming from and Jumba. He was trying to make a judgement call – he cared for Little Girl deeply, as evidenced by the intense look of worry on his face, but he also understood exactly what Jumba was saying.

Finally, he stopped, turned his head towards Jumba, looked him squarely in the eye, and said only six words.

"Naga, Jumba. Lilo tu Jumba jugabli."

Jumba's mouth cracked into a smile. He ruffled Stitch's head fur as if he were a small boy with hair; Stitch looked somewhat confused, but happy all the same – by 419's analysis, happy that Jumba was happy, and happy that he was no longer considering the … well, the impossible.

"Stitch has only said that to me once before," Jumba explained. "It inspired a rescue plan to try and rescue Little Girl. Against _all_ odds, it succeeded. I am hoping the same will happen with this plan."

He took a long, deep breath, as if to calm his senses, and continued. "Now, I may be able to restore the Little Girl we know, but first we need to subdue her."

Stitch nodded slowly, sniffing a little, while 419 folded her arms, still somewhat perturbed by Jumba's newfound vigour.

"Now, this plan," he continued, "requires that everyone co-operates quickly and _in time_. We are needing to be like cogs in oiled machine that is well. We are needing to be like Borg."

* * *

Lilo's mind was tired out.

She had been resisting the Borg for so long… she had to keep resisting. Even as she… _they_ were looking for her friends, she couldn't give up.

But she had done horrible things.

On the way to Earth, she had assisted the assimilation of a planet. She implanted them with nanoprobes that forced the subject to be docile, and then beamed them to the chambers. The people who were unviable for assimilation and the people who resisted too much were killed.

She'd helped in the assimilation process. She'd sent people – innocent people, pleading with their eyes, begging for her to stop – to the same fate as herself, a fate worse than death.

Could she be redeemed?

_You didn't do this_, said a determined voice In her head. _It's not your fault, it was the Borg._

**You _are_ Borg**, said another, a dreary monotone. **Our thoughts are one. We did this together, working in equal parts.**

_These acts are not your own. You are an individual. You are stron-_

**There are no individuals. We work as one, for the good of the Collective.**

Whatever the case, she didn't care – it was a distinction without a difference. She would be stuck with the pain and horror, with the images of what she – they had done burned to her brain.

**There is a way. Become part of us. Let go and the pain will go too. You will become like us. Unfeeling, unrelenting, a single mind working for the good of perfection. Finally. you will not be lost. Finally, you will belong.**

_You need that pain. It is a part of you, it makes you human._

Lilo wasn't so sure. She'd had enough pain and misery.

But the other had a point. Without emotion, what was the point?

* * *

Jumba Jookiba leaned against the back of the console, careful that his head not raise above it. He breathed slowly – he wasn't sure that this was going to work, but he had to try.

He couldn't dare try to tell his experiments to go along with this risky plan, but he needn't bother – they had all volunteered. Experiment 419 had been carried by Stitch to the optimal position, and then Stitch had taken his place, careful to be quiet so as not to arouse suspicion from the single-minded drone.

Lilo. She had to be in there somewhere.

"I've had enough with games, Jumba Jookiba."

Jumba winced. The voice _sounded_ like Lilo, but… didn't. It lacked the care, the happiness, the emotion that Lilo carried in her speech.

It was a shell, an emotionless void. This wasn't Lilo.

"I am going to count to three, Jumba. I know you are here, so I want you to face me like a Qweltian. If not, I start shooting."

He shivered. Those words, full of revile and hate. They sounded strange in Lilo's voice, as alien as the strangest voice he had ever heard.

He lifted his hands high above his head and shuffled across from his hiding spot. "Alright, Lilo. I am here."

The girl who looked so much like Lilo turned around. "Ah, Jumba. I've been expecting you. Where are your experiments?"

Jumba thought quickly. Lilo didn't know they were here.

"They are being… er, on my ship."

The girl raised an eyebrow.

"You're a bad liar, Jumba."

"So I have been told," muttered Jumba.

"We saw your experiments on this ship. Experiment 419 helped you escape your cell, with assistance from Experiment 626, who terminated five drones. We have also seen Experiment 426 on this ship…"

Jumba noticed 419 attempting to hold back a gasp.

"… but his current co-ordinates are unknown."

"How are you knowing their designations?"

The girl smirked.

"You know how _I_ know, Jookiba. Our thoughts are one."

* * *

**Our thoughts are one.**

It wasn't _quite_ true, but then again, she could feel the thought processes, hear the thoughts as they formed. And it felt as if it were _her_ thoughts.

Each word that came out of her mouth felt foreign. She tried to move her eyes instinctively, but could not. She tried to scream, to tell Jumba to run as fast as he could. But her mouth did not move.

And new thoughts were forming in her head. She thought of assimilating Jumba. She wanted to assimilate Jumba…

No. No, she could never want that. It was the _thing_ in her head that wanted that.

**The thing in your head is your brain. We _do_ want to assimilate Jumba, together.**

No. The Borg were the ones who wanted it, not her.

She didn't know how long she could convince herself that, though.

Her eyes saw Jumba signal. A noise, a brush of air – her mind quickly calculated the trajectory of the incoming body, and snatched it by the wrist as it flew at her from the ceiling.

The drone looked at the body. Lilo gasped. It was Stitch.

She felt her hand rotate, swiftly, precisely – she was twisting his wrist.

Stitch shrieked in agony. She was doing this. Her best friend in the universe, and she was causing him pain.

She had become a monster.

And then she said something. Words that were her own, but not her own, spilled out of her mouth, uncontrollably, unrelentingly, in an even tone.

"The knowledge and experience of the human, Lilo Pelekai, is part of us now. It has prepared us for _all_ possible courses of action."


	55. Deliverance

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
Chapter 55: Deliverance**

Pain.

Lilo Pelekai, the girl he had lived four years with, his best and only friend, held him high, so that he dangled from his arm. And she twisted.

_No_, Experiment 626 tried to tell himself. _This girl wasn't Lilo._

But as much as he thought that, every time he looked at her face, into her eyes, he saw the innocent girl that had been her friend. She was still in there. She had to be.

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, bracing against the swaths of pain that flowed from his wrist. He would have to bear the pain.

"Really, Jumba, we expected better from you." The cold words of an alien being. "_This_ was your plan? Maybe we overestimated your intelligence."

She had stopped twisting, but the pain remained, throbbing, convulsing down his arm like jolts of water down a cartoon hose. Stitch opened his eyes slightly – Jumba was writhing from the insult, much more so than if it had been from anyone else.

He tried to swing on his arm, attempting to ignore the bursts of pain, but, Lil-_the parasite_ changed her grip slightly to just below the wrist, making it next to impossible for him to pivot without the possibility of cracking his arm.

He couldn't reach her at all in this position It would be up to 419 now.

"Come now, Experiment 626," she said, turning her head to face him. "You don't expect us to allow you to do that?" And she squeezed his now rather tender wrist slightly – just short enough to send a painful stinging sensation. The message was clear – don't do anything, and you won't get hurt.

"Now, tell me-"

She stopped and stared at Jumba. He had pulled out a plasma gun and was now pointing it at her.

"What are you going to do, shoot me? Lilo's still here, and she's so full of fear."

"Put 626 down, and I will not be having to." Jumba stared resolutely ahead, and although his hand wavered ever so slightly, his eyes were completely transfixed on the girl that was not Lilo.

"Then so be-"

SPLOOSH.

Stitch swung his head around so he could see the source of the noise. Sure enough, 419 had fired a plasma ball from the gun _she_ was holding. In seconds, the green irregular-shaped orb shot across the corridor, rapidly making its way towards its intended target.

And then, centimetres away from the drone's left leg, it dissipated.

"Chuuta," muttered Jumba.

"What exactly did you expect?" asked the girl who wasn't Lilo in a slightly mocking tone.

"Was wondering whether shield was concentration based to conserve energy for efficiency," said Jumba half-heartedly.

"Well, now you have your answer – the experiments of Species 132 showed the security-loss outweighs the minor gains in efficiency."

She smiled. It was a smile that made Stitch's skin crawl.

"But it will take more than that to stop us," she said, emphasising the word _'that'_ with a sweeping gesture in front of her, using her left arm. She had, after all, won.

But her left arm was the arm that held Stitch, and he was now close enough to reach her.

He swung towards Lilo, pain filling every muscle and tendon of his wrist. Gritting his teeth and sighting his goal, he pulled his right arm upwards and stuck upon the Borg-girl's right leg a small disc-shaped device, its legs locking into place the moment it was there.

It would only be two more seconds.

The girl glanced from the device to Stitch, and back again.

"What have you-"

BZZZZZZZZZZK

Bright blue bolts arced from the device, racing across Lilo's body and leaping from point to point.

ZZZZZZZKSKZZ

In a fraction of a second, the veins of electricity made its way down Lilo's arm and-

ZZSKSZSZZZ

For the briefest of moments, bolts of electricity lapped across Stitch's body. And while it hurt less than it would have if Stitch wasn't partially electricity-proof, it still _hurt_.

"Ahhhrgh!"

Lilo let out a shriek, dropping Stitch in the process. He landed painfully on his bottom, but that didn't matter, considering…

She fell to her knees, her eyes scrunched up, her hands pressing hard – really, _really_ hard – against her ears. It was almost as if she was trying to block out the noise of a billion billion people, all talking at once.

ZBLIZTPYEWL.

Seconds after it started, it stopped. Lilo collapsed to the ground, unconscious, her face falling into what looked like an uneasy frown. Stitch looked from the girl to Jumba, who had a rather worried look on his face, almost as if something unexpected had happened.

Experiment 419 rushed up to her.

"What did you- that was completely un- she could've-"

"Do not be worrying," Jumba interrupted, his expression becoming more resolute. "Little Girl is merely knocked out right now."

While he looked surer than a minute ago, his eyes still had an air of uncertainty about them.

"But she could have… and you could have…"

"Emba chuuta," Stitch muttered.

"Exactly," 419 agreed. "You didn't say it would be _that_ dramatic! What if she's hurt?"

"All your concerns are noted, but while – er – while I agree it is _looking_ dramatic, I can be assuring you that it is one-hundred percent safe."

419 raised her eyebrow.

"Okay, ninety-eight point two, but the remaining percentages were only minor cosmetic skin burns. The point is being, I have thoroughly performed tests to be making sure it is safe, and it is the only method I am having available that could have rendered the shield useless – you see, I was thinking shield is being electromagnetic, and thus only protecting against projectile energy weapons, and not things like Stitch's hand."

"Um, gaba tobita?"

"It was stored in compartment in communicator," replied Jumba. "A special thing I developed, just in case."

"And _how_ did you test it?" 419 asked.

"Er…" Jumba's eyes darted back and forth. "Is not important. What _is_ important is that we are getting out of here with Little Girl."

"But…"

"No further questions, this isn't being time or place. Now, can you prop her up?"

Stitch exchanged annoyed looks with 419, but they did what they were told; after they had done so, Jumba briefly scanned the figure with his communicator.

"Lilo is unconscious, but is otherwise fine," he said. "As I expected."

After checking again and ascertaining the results were to his satisfaction, he picked her up and slung her across his shoulder, then patted her on the back.

"There, there."

He looked to the other two.

"Let's move."

* * *

"ARRRRRGH!"

The Queen of the Borg held her head as the flow of pain ebbed away. This was _not possible_.

"Re-establish the link!"

It was only a moment before the Collective responded.

_"The cortical node associated with Unimatrix 002 Primary Adjunct One of Two is unable to be located."_

Pelekai knew Experiment 626 intrinsically. Why hadn't they been able to predict such a thing?

She had to limit whatever damage the group would cause. She needed to assimilate them quickly.

Unimatrix 052 and 054 would be acceptable. They should head them off.

"Ahem. We had a deal."

Urgh. _Him._

She turned around. As predicted, the shadowy being had returned.

"Fine. Go do your llittle… _thing_." She twirled her fingers as she supposed some humans did in moments of idleness, and the creature left.

Though she loathed to acknowledge it, he had a point. If he could get Jumba and the others with a minimal loss of units, then they would be at even more of an advantage than otherwise. And if not, she supposed she could just send a team to assimilate them.

Time wasn't of the essence, after all. The ship was thousands of kilometres across, and they had no shuttle, no beaming technology, no projectile weapons that they could use, and no contact with _Serenity_, who was dead in the water anyway and thousands of light-years away. And besides all that, they had no way of telling they were on the ship.

Where did they have to run to?

Then again, Jumba had an annoying habit of coming up with things at the last moment. It was one of his more distinctive qualities, one that she very much wanted to add to the Collective's own.

But Jumba had been stripped of all technology. He had little expertise at Borg technology. Any resistance would, therefore, be useless

She felt confident. Despite their setbacks, she was going to win.

* * *

**A/N:** Writing things like the character of Drone!Lilo, or Jumba's actions in this chapter, or what happened to 426 on Ch50, or Stitch's thoughts earlier on, is often hard. Sometimes you want to keep characters in a padded box, but that doesn't often make for a very intersting story.

Speaking of which, I think Jumba's actions in this chapter were completely justifiable in the sense that he had something in his disposal that had a high likelyhood of disabling the threat presented by Drone!Lilo without harming Human!Lilo. I wanted to make it clear that his thinking isn't cold or mechanical, despite what the experiments might think, and he isn't _just_ making justifications - this was his best-bet plan that would save Lilo while haming her the least.

Just to head off any lingering concerns, I can assure you that Lilo _is_ fine (apart from, you know, all the nanotech in her body) and that Jumba's testing of the disc-thing was completely ethical - the reason he doesn't want to say anything about it is more of a personal issue than a matter of ethics.


	56. Reunion

**A/N:** It turns out that a month or so without Internet allowed me to give this chapter (and the next) a thrice-over, and I ended up rewriting them somewhat. Ah well, at least being Internet-less did _some_ good!

* * *

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
Chapter 56: Reunion**

Experiment 426 was _tired_.

He was tired of walking. He was tired of the pain. He was tired of the pinging noise, which were now hurting his eardrums, although he suspected that was more a problem with his ear than the fact it was loud. He was also physically exhausted, and it was all his brain could do to keep awake.

But he had to keep going. For Jumba, for his sister, and for Little Girl.

It was at the moment that this thought floated through his brain that he realised that the noise was hurting his ears _less_, and consequently, was getting softer. Wearily, he stumbled backwards, until he reached the point where his ears hurt the most, and then scanned the wall for signs of Qweltian technology..

It wasn't long until he spotted the beacon that Jumba had left behind – a single red light slowly flashing on and off with each beep. Reaching up with his numb left hand, he pressed the light; once he had done so, the beacon fell silent, and the light shone no more.

Finally, some peace.

Silently cursing the pain that continued to throb through his arm, he walked onwards through the corridors beyond the beacon, sarcastically admiring the _sameness_ of it all, until finally he came to an intersection.

_Crud_, thought 426.

_It was bound to happen_, noted the female voice in 426's head, _since Jumba and the others are probably far ahead; it wasn't like you'd just run into them._

426 decided that the best way to respond to this would be to not respond at all.

A noise. His ears perked, and he listened closely.

There were footsteps in the distance.

The clanging of shoes on metal was faint, but definitely there. And the sounds were coming through mainly his right ear, indicating that they had most likely taken the corresponding passage.

_Well, at least if they aren't Jumba and the others, they're probably going to be non-Borg and thus semi-friendly, since their footsteps are irregular, unlike that of the drones_, the voice pointed out (rather unnecessarily too, as 426 had been thinking the same thing).

He guessed that settled the matter, and so he continued down the right-hand corridor, hoping that whatever it was, it was either Jumba or something that wasn't going to eat him for dessert.

* * *

Running.

It was all Jumba could think to do. He had to put as much distance between him and where they knew he was as possible. Only then could he think.

The two experiments ran beside him, unquestioning and silent. Jumba supposed that they were only running beside him because they'd no way out otherwise, and that they thought him callous and cold.

He certainly didn't _mean_ it. He wanted to take the best path, one where no-one was hurt and everyone was smiling at the end, but he knew sometimes some risks had to be taken for the long run to turn out all right. He didn't see how the ending he envisioned could ever happen now, but he had to keep it as close to that as possible.

And despite his desire, there had been too many risks. _Was_ he being careless?

In all honesty, Jumba never considered himself _truly_ evil, but he really had no other word to describe himself. Reckless, perhaps? He'd heard of a role-playing game where characxers could be 'chaotic-good' as well as 'chaotic-evil', so he supposed he could use that term. It was the _chaos_ he was attracted to, the lack of order in an otherwise balanced universe.

But despite his appeals, he would never intentionally put someone in harm's way, and he'd do his best to save someone he cared about. That's what separated him from the other scientists, the ones that were 'chaotic-evil', some of which he'd had the upmost displeasure of working with earlier in his career, and ones he would eventually give evidence against in return for a significantly reduced sentence.

Lilo sighed in her sleep. She must hate him now most of all. She was counting on him, but he'd given her pain. It may have been necessary, but Jumba felt it would be completely justified if she hated him. Even if he came to fulfil her expectations, he'd still let her down.

Something caught Jumba's eye. One of the Borg's core tenants may have been no imagination whatsoever, resulting in a general lack of variety in decor, but he was completely sure that he'd seen the collection of strewn wires and rubbery pipes that were dangling in a bundle from the roof above before, and now that he thought about it, the layout of the corridor _did_ seem a little familiar...

_Right_. He was now somewhat sure that they were now only a few corridors removed from where they met the crew of the _Serenity_. And they had some method of getting on the ship, so maybe they could-

A clanking noise along one of the side-corridors abruptly pulled Jumba from his thoughts; this was quickly followed by a _very_ high-pitched yelp of pain.

"Pleakley!"

"Jumba?" An antenna and half an eye peeked around the corner of the intersection lying at the end of the passage..

And before Jumba could register, Pleakley had rushed up to him and was now squeezing him about as tightly as if he was Winnie-the-Pooh and Pleakley was Christopher Robin.

"It's you! And the experiments!"

Much to their individual chagrin, he then proceeded to pick up both 419 and 626, almost squashed them into a hug, and put them down again. Jumba noted with amusement that Stitch was looking somewhat dazed, while 419 was just standing there, her glasses somewhat askew.

"And… you've got Lilo! And you're alive! And not mindless zombies!"

"Heh, well, you are knowing me, little one-eyed one," Jumba said. "But would not have worked if not for evil genius experiments."

Stitch, recovered from his daze, nodded somewhat proudly.

"But also, should be careful not to be waking up Little Girl."

"_Oh, sorry,_" whispered Pleakley.

419 had also regained her proper mental state, and was now wearing a somewhat puzzled look.

"What _are_ you doing here?"

"Oh, right. I came to tell you guys that I've found a way off the ship. The _Serenity_ has this… er, beaming transporting thingy…"

"Like the Borg?" Jumba asked.

"Er, yes, like the Borg. _Anyway_, we've got to be at a specific set of co-ordinates no later than… I think, about an hour from now. I think I have it on this – transcorder or something…"

At this point, Pleakley pulled out a device that looked somewhat like a bulkier version of Jumba's communicator.

"I think it's called a _tricorder_," observed 419.

"How do you suppose that?"

"It's written on the back."

Pleakley turned the tricoder over and, sure enough, there was, heading a list of technical specifications, the words "Mark-III General-Use Tricorder (LCARS)".

"Oh."

Jumba nodded. "Thank you, Pleakley."

Pleakley nodded in recognition.

"Now, if you would be so kind as to be leading us th-

"What about 426?"

Jumba turned to stare at 419. In all the excitement, he'd almost forgotten.

Maybe the experiments were right – he _was_ getting careless.

"Er-"

What _could_ they do about him? The ship was kilometres in length, hardly scannable and swarming with Borg. A search in the best of situations would take months, never mind the situation they were in now.

"Pleakley, have your scans picked up anything?"

Pleakley gestured to Jumba's communicator, which he handed to him, and entered in a few symbols. "Um, hang on, the link's establishing…"

Jumba tapped his foot for a few seconds as he watched Pleakley fiddle around with the communicator's keypad.

"Ah, got it! Um…"

He looked down at his feet.

"Sorry. Nothing's been picked up."

419 nodded slowly, eyes lingering on the communicator.

"N-no, that's- that's fine. W-we c-could probably f-find him in the n-next…"

She trailed off, and her gaze shifted to her own feet.

Jumba looked from 419 to the communicator, and then back.

There was nothing else to it. He'd made too many promises already, promises he'd failed to keep. The line _must_ be drawn here – this far, and no further.

"I'll do it," he muttered.

"What?"

"You take Little Girl." He lifted Lilo, and placed her on Pleakley's shoulder; Pleakley wobbled backwards a bit, but managed to keep his balance. "Get to the rendezvous point. If I am not being back by the appointed time, please. leave without me."

But Pleakley shook his head.

"Jumba, you can't just-"

"Oh, come now, Jumba, listen to your friend. I don't really think that will be necessary."

The few remaining hairs left on Jumba's head stood up as the words echoed down the hallway. It was a voice with a natural coldness to it, almost _mechanical_ in feel, but it flowed like silk - or quicksilver, or melted titanium being poured into a mould. The others wore puzzled expressions on their faces, but Jumba recognised that voice instantly.

He had, of course, been the one who designed it.

The group had all turned their heads instinctively, back towards the way they came, to see who it was - but something was amiss. While the Borg vessel wasn't exactly the most well-lit place in the universe, the passageway they had just been running down now seemed far darker than it had been before. In fact, where before they had been able to see to the end of the corridor, now the area not ten meters ahead and onwards was completely dark.

But one thing was definitely visible – one red laser beam shone out of the darkness, originating at a point Jumba estimated to be about four feet from the ground.

Stitch's eye level.

The laser started to flicker over the group, almost as if it was scanning them, or seeking something out.

"_Quickly_," whispered Jumba, _"place Little Girl out of sight_."

Pleakley appeared slightly confused, but did as he was told, scampering to lay Lilo on the top of a nearby metallic cube of some design, and then returning to where he had been.

It was getting closer now, and the light from nearby power conduits illuminated the creature's silhouette 419 squinted – probably attempting to compensate for her poor low-light sight – but Stitch gasped, and Pleakley turned to look at Jumba.

"That isn't what I think it is… _is it_?"

Jumba nodded. He was quite sure he was thinking the same thing as Pleakley.

And as the small group looked on, the figure stepped forward into the light, the darkness unravelling from its fpurple fur as if a viel had suddenly been thrown off.

And what was unmistakingly the figure of the six-hundred and twenty-eighth of Jumba's genetic experiments stood before them.

"Hello Wendy Pleakley, Experiment 419, and 626. And _especially_ to you, Jumba Jookiba."

Experiment 628 smirked as he surveyed the faces of everyone present.

"I've been expecting all of you."


	57. Tis The Bell

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
Chapter 57: 'Tis The Bell**

Jumba blinked.

"Experiment 628! What are you doing here?"

In all the running and chaos and disorder, and in the rush to save Lilo, he'd _completely _forgotten about the reason they were in this mess in the first place.

He shook his head. Now was not the time to be assigning blame.

"Never mind, is not important. What _is_ important is you can be helping me find-"

"I'm afraid I cannot do that, Jumba."

Jumba raised his eyebrows in confusion. "What do you mean? Why not?"

Experiment 628 stepped forward once, his grim smile growing wider as he did.

"Jumba, Jumba, _Jumba_. Did you really think you could control me? With your _programming?_"

"_What is he talking about?_" whispered Pleakley nervously.

Jumba shrugged. Something wasn't right.

"Those other weak-minded fools-" he continued, shifting his gaze to Stitch "-might have been easy to sway, but I am not them."

He took another step forward. Stitch growled a warning – he had not liked that slight at all.

"My directive is to destroy," continued 628, cracking his knuckles. "Wreck, maim, sabotage – whatever it takes to cause as much chaos as possible. And I figure a good way to do that is to start with _you_."

"I am not knowing what you are doing," replied Jumba, adopting a stern tone to make his disappointment clear, "but I am ordering you. Stand down, now."

"No," 628 said.

"_No_? But your directive should prevent- I am not understandi-"

"You wouldn't understand, Jumba. I didn't expect you to. You see, your directives were flawed."

"_Flawed?_ How dare you-"

"Uh-bah-but! Directive number one, take any precaution to cause as much chaos as possible. Directive number two was that as one of Jumba's experiments, I should do as Jumba commands, irrespective of the first directive. Following directive two means I could not achieve directive one to my full potential. So, I denounced myself."

"You _denounced-_"

"Indeed. I can hardly cause chaos if I can be ordered not to, or to do good instead. So, to paraphrase the great bard, I revoked my father and refused my name, for I shall no longer be known as one of _Jumba's_ _experiments_."

Jumba bowed his head slightly, and then looked up.

"I see."

"_What is he going tp do with us!_?" whispered Pleakley, his voice steadily rising in pitch. "_I'm allergic to pain and tourture!_"

"Oh, Wendy, nothing quite so _physical_. No, I'm going to subdue you and hand you over to the Borg. They will assimilate you. Sure, they'll replace parts of your original body, but that's not the part I really care about. Rather, over time, your will, your determination, your very mind will be slowly destroyed, piece by piece, until nothing remains. And until then, you will be forced to destroy, to main, to hurt, and you won't be able to do anything to stop it."

"_Woah. He **is** evil_," Pleakley sounded slightly awestruck, and Jumba understood why – Jumba's experiments had wrecked plenty of havoc, to be sure, but none of them were what he'd call _truly_ evil.

He didn't reply. Instead, he procured a plasma cannon, and, taking this as a cue, Stitch pulled out the one 419 had given him earlier.

"How quaint, a _plasma cannon_," mocked 628. "Meanwhile, I can knock you all out with one hit."

He glanced at his arm and smirked. "You've really got to stop making overpowered experiments, Jumba. It's _far_ too risky."

"628, this is not you," Jumba urged. "The 628 I developed loved chaos, yes, but would never actually _harm_ anyone!"

"But it _is_ me, Jumba! I can feel it- it's brimming in my every being. This is my destiny – I am become the Destroyer of Worlds."

"But-"

"Jumba, I suggest you stop. This conversation can serve no further pur-"

"_No_."

Almost a whisper, the word floated across the corridor. Experiment 628 looked confused for a moment, and then leaned sideways. Jumba and Pleakley looked back as well, although they knew whose voice it was.

Experiment 628's eyebrows narrowed, and his grin grew even wider.

"Ah, the human Earth girl, Lilo Pelekai."

"_Who?_" whispered 419.

"_Little Girl_," Jumba whispered back, still staring behind him.

Lilo had somehow managed to climb down the box without being detected, and then, pushing herself unsteadily to her feet, was now stumbling towards the experiment.

"Enough," said 628. "You can offer no words of persuasion to me."

And with that, he rapidly clasped his hands together.

In an instant, Jumba had been completely winded by the wall that, mere seconds ago, had been a full twenty feet behind him, and then fell to the ground. He rubbed his head, and then looked around – the others had also been slammed against varying objects. Pleakley was slumped against the wall further along from Jumba, 419 was attempting to steady herself against the controls of one of the alcoves, and Stitch was shaking his cranium as if trying to clear his head from the whack it had gotten from a black column with odd green circles and lines displayed on it. Lilo lay against the box's side, eyes closed again, her head loping to one side; Jumba hoped she was still alright after such an impact, even though he knew that she had probably sustained some major injuries.

He glanced sideways, looking for either of the plasma guns, but they were nowhere to be found.

He tried to stand up, but pain burst through his left leg, and he could feel it was not prepared to hold him, threatening him with collapse. He leaned against the wall, attempting to pull pressure from his leg onto the barrier instead.

Slowly, he shook his head. Everything was going _wrong_.

But then, Lilo's arm moved.

Her eyes opened.

Lilo grasped the side of the box and pulled herself up. Fragily, she stepped towards the experiment again, her eyes slightly unfocused, but staring as straight as they could the Experiment 628.

"You can still… belong," she whispered.

"How are you… stay back!" yelled 628, holding his arms in front of him threateningly.

And then, Lilo tripped.

Jumba recognised the object she had stumbled over as his communicator. There was no way he'd be able to get towards it without 628 seeing, but if Lilo could get it…

"Little Girl, the communicator!"  
Lilo picked herself up and turned around; spotting the bright red communicator, grabbed it.

"I don't _think so!"_ yelled 628, and clasped his hands together yet again.

"Lilo, behind you!" yelled Pleakley, running as fast as he could to position himself between the two.

The wave of pressure hit Pleakley first, but it wasn't much use – he was flung overhead, hitting the wall behind the box and then sliding down. While diminished, the wave continued, and within the blink of an eye it slammed into Lilo, hitting her square in the back and flinging her across the room. Jumba winced as Lilo's stomach caught the corner of the box, flipping her in almost a complete circle and landing on top of it.

For a moment, Pleakley groaned, rubbing his cranium, but when his senses recovered he rushed up to Lilo.

"Come on, Lilo, speak to me…" he pleaded as he held her wrist, checking for any signs of life.

"_AKA-CHOOKIE!_"

A blue blur flashed upwards across Jumba's vision and flung itself at 628.

_Crack._

Stitch screamed in pain. 628 had caught him by the paw, and was now dragging him along the floor, his wrist bent backwards far beyond its' normal range. Having reached a wall, he picked him up and threw him against it, catching him as he fell, and flung him to the floor. Still holding his claw, he pulled him up into the air and smashed him against the ground on the other side of him, and then threw him against the wall to the right of him. And, for a final touch, he fired a pressure wave at him, which hit him unopposed.

Stitch slumped over, still breathing, but clearly unconscious.

Pleakley had taken Lilo's pulse and breathing rate, and was now clutching her hand tightly, still pleading with her to wake up. Jumba gestured the shape of a handset to Pleakley, hoping he would get the message, and then decided to distract 628 while he thought of a plan.

"So, Experiment 628, why be using your pressure wave, rather than simply with the knocking of us out?"

Jumba slowly edged himself towards the column, which brought him closer to the box, and thus, Lilo.

"Why? Because it's more _fun_. Because you suffer more this way. Because I _like_ it. It's the way I am."

"But surely it's more efficient, and besides, I was being under impression you weren't going to torture us."

"I _lied_, Jumba. I do that. Besides, it's only karma, really - it's just like you lied to me."

Jumba frowned. "Sorry, but I am not certain what you're, er, talking-"

"Ha! Lying about lying. Please don't try it, I'm not a child."

He _was_, in a manner of speaking, still a child – he had _knowledge_, sure, but _very_ little experience – and even considering the evil genius that he was, no combat simulation Jumba could make would come close to representing reality. He thought that he could be prepared for everything – and Jumba knew now that that was a very flawed approach.

Jumba glanced sideways ever so slightly. Still clutching Lilo with one hand, Pleakley had used the other to extract the communicator from Lilo's left hand's grasp, and was now looking expectantly at Jumba. He subtly changed the direction of his hands so that only Pleakley could see his fingers, and then signalled five numbers – five, two, four, two and six.

Jumba turned his attention back to Experiment 628. He had no idea exactly _what_ the experiment considered to be 'lying to him', but he decided to bluff it.

"Okay, okay. So I lied. Surely that doesn't warrant any of this."

A smile began to form on 628's face. "Really? You really feel no remorse at all. I figured you'd regret it a little, but…"

"I regret many things, 628."

"Sure, whatever. Look, if you're going to lie to me, you should at least make it conv-"

A beeping sound filled the area – Jumba instantly recognised it as an incorrect passcode entry. He glanced to the left – Pleakley was rapidly tapping the same point on the screen of the communicator, as if he was trying to to dismiss a dialog that wouldn't go away fast enough. After it had evidently been dismissed, he rapidly tapped some buttons on the keypad again.

"Oh, so you were only trying to _distract_ me. Well, we can't have _that_!"

In the seconds between 628 forming the pressure wave and it reaching Pleakley, a large circular panel at the bottom of the communicator slid open, and a small metal sphere dropped out.

Pleakley was pushed back against the wall a third time, and fell yet again. This time, he had a somewhat dazed expression, and he did not try and get up.

"And now for you, _Jum-_"

"_Don't_."

If at all possible, her voice sounded _even more _fragile than it had before, but it was without a doubt the voice of Lilo Pelekai.

She had sat herself up, her arm wavering against the weight of her body, but still holding it steadily upright. In her right hand she held the metal ball, and she was now pointing it towards 628.

Experiment 628 looked as if his jaw had fallen off.

"How- but, that's impos-"

He shook his head.

"No, why should _I_ worry about _that_? I'll just have to knock you out the easy way!"

A purple gas-like cloud formed around his hands, and bright blue bolts crackled around it.

And then, unexpectedly, someone grabbed a hold of Lilo's right arm. It was 419.

"We've got you,' she whispered.

"Don't worry," said a recovered Pleakley, grabbing the left.

Lilo smiled at the two, and then turned her head to face 628.

"It doesn't have to be like this. You… you can come with us, and we'll… we'll teach you to be good."

"You can't do anything for me!" exclaimed 628. "I've chosen my path."

Out of the corner of his eye, Jumba saw Stitch shake his head and stand up. He started to move towards 628, but Lilo held out a hand.

"No, don't, Stitch," she said. "He can still be good."

"The words of a fool. My past, my future, is destruction."

"Look, I know you've had a broken past. So have I. So has Stitch and Jumba. But we've managed to fix things between all of us."

"You can't fix the past-"

"But the future is fluid," replied Jumba. "It is being your decisions that shape your future, not your past."

"_No._ You're _wrong_. _Even_ should I wade no more, returning would be as _difficult_ as to go o'er!" said 628. "It's too late."

"It's never too late," said Lilo. "And you know what? I forgive you."

628's eyes widened at these words.

"What?"

"I. Forgive. You. Though you may harm us and maim us, I will still forgive you. And although you can't help the past, you can choose the future."

She smiled.

"Let me save you."

628 said nothing, but he still retained his stance. For several seconds, he looked at her, as if examining her face, her eyes, for any sign of deceit.

And then, he lowered his arms..

"Now, Little Girl!"

Lilo hesitated for a fraction of a second.

And then, she pressed the only button on the otherwise unremarkable surface of the orb.

A bright pink light sprung from the singular grove that wound around the surface of the sphere. Rapidly, it made its way along the chasm, leaving in its wake a cord of light.

As it met the end of the thread it had made, it stopped, and several smaller beads split off. They continued along the path set by their parent, completing each trip faster and faster until their figures could not be made out from the blur of their motions. As they did so, the cord that spanned the sphere's center grew brighter and brighter.

At approximately two seconds after Lilo had pressed the button, the points of lights stopped at points spaced evenly along the fore of the sphere.

A bright beam shot out of the centre bead, hitting Experiment 628 squarely in the chest. Other beams followed from the other points, all aiming at the same point; after a few fractions of a second, they moved across his body to the tips of his head and feet, to the sides of his chest, and to his paws.

In the moment between the centre beam hitting him and the rest of the beams moving to their current arrangement, Experiment 628 had been moving his eyeballs downward so that he could ascertain exactly what was happening to him. When he did, his eyes narrowed, and his teeth clenched.

Then, far quicker than he could blink, he was doused in a low puce light.

"What-"

After the glowing subsided, he himself rapidly changed colour, to the same shade of pink as the beams which still targeted his outline.

"-are-"

Even the areas where there was supposed to be shadow was now the same shade, and anyone looking at him would not be able to discern him from a sillouette.

All the beams of light save the centre one faded, their job now achieved.

"-yoooooooou…"

With that, the figure of 628 collapsed into a bright pink bulb, streamed into the sphere along the now solitary beam of light, and vanished as it hit the silver sphere's groove.

And finally, as the battle's weariness finally overtook her, Lilo slumped backwards, rolled her head to the side, and closed her eyes.


	58. Sucker's Luck

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
Chapter 58: Sucker's Luck**

At first he didn't notice it.

426 was merely concentrating on catching up to the footsteps. Although, all things considered, he probably wouldn't be able until the what-ever-they-were stopped moving, he still wanted to at least be nearby when they did, so as to improve the chances of running into them.

But as he wove his way through the passages, occasionally backtracking when he reached dead ends or passages that took him away from the sound, a thought began to form in the back of his mind. A nagging feeling, as if something wasn't right.

And as he passed through the fifth empty corridor in a row, it struck him.

_There were none of the cyborg thingies anywhere._

This was _odd_. Before the place had been swarming with them.

Perhaps they were all sucked out?

_On a ship this size?_ asked the voice in his head. _There's gotta be, what, hundreds of thousands of them!_

Well, maybe they were all elsewhere fixing stuff.

_Perhaps._

He pricked his ears, listening for any sound at all.

Nothing. They'd obviously stopped.

_Or they've moved out of hearing range,_ countered the voice in his head. 426 ignored it.

He ran through along the corridors, in his mind imagining a pictorial aid – a compass arrow swinging in the direction the thunking and clunking of boots had come from – all the while attempting to ignore the stich in his chest, as well as a sharp pain in his upper left leg.

_C'mon old legs, don't give up on me now!_

As he rounded a corner, something struck him; he stopped running so he could gather his thoughts, and to listen without the sound of his own running getting in the way.

It was definite. The footsteps had started clunking again. And now they were getting _louder_.

He stood there for a few minutes, just listening to the sounds echoing down the corridors. They were coming towards him, he was sure of it.

_You've stayed here too long,_ said the voice in his head._ What if they take a different turn? What if they're only in a parallel corridor? What if the cyborg thingies were tracking you and you've given them the opportunity to catch up?_

426 ignored her. He was much too busy listening – there was something else in the background, something familiar, but something that was so soft he couldn't quite identify it.

And as he listened, he began to hear the voices of people – unfamiliar voices, but people all the same. And they were shouting to each other.

"Rotate field modulations Echo-Two-Bravo!"

"I'm not sure we can hold them off any longer!"

"Captain, they've adapted!"

"Alright, I'd say it's time for a quick and orderly retreat!"

"Hear hear!"

_Oh crud._

He turned around and started to run as fast as he could.

Which, as it turned out, wasn't very fast at all – he was struggling to even maintain a slow jog, and still then stumbled over his feet every few metres. And the pain in his leg was getting worse.

He was _tired_. He was sure it was the most tired he'd ever felt – it was as if his body was all out fighting the flu or something, and it was all he could do to convince himself that no, this wouldn't be a good time for a nap, and though his body would probably punish him later, he certainly wouldn't regret it.

He was _sure_ the voices were running from the cyborg thingies. It was the only possibility, wasn't it? And that sound he'd heard – it was the sound of those pistons, those stupid _stupid_ leg-pistons of those stupid _stupid_ zombie aliens.

He tried to push himself to run faster. If there was one thing he didn't like the idea of, it was finding out what the cyborg thingies did when they caught someone.

But it wasn't long until he started finding himself hundreds of metres ahead of where he expected, between blinks of an eye; he was so _tired_, though, that he didn't think to question it. There was only one thought.

Get away.

Must get away.

Away from _them_.

Was he going the right way? He no longer cared, as long as he was getting away.

They'd destroy him.

Have to run.

Have to get-

_SLAM._

He lifted his face from the cold metal ground. The surroundings were unfamiliar, and wasn't he just on his feet?

_Must get away._

He tried pushing himself up, but he could feel his muscles strain even lifting him slightly above the ground. And then there was the bursts of pain throbbing through his left arm, magnified greatly by the pressure his weight was putting on them.

But he had to get _up_…

Finally, they gave way, and 426 fell back on his chest.

_Tired_. He'd been running for so long. Perhaps a really quick nap wouldn't hurt?

_No, don't, you've got to run!_ said the voice in his head.

He couldn't keep running forever. Not like this, at least – they were relentless and unforgiving, and he was neither of those things. And surely he could nap before they caught up? After all, all he needed was a few minutes sleep, and then he'd be fresh enough to continue running – but right now he couldn't do it.

_Get up!_ shouted the voice, sounding even more desperate than before._ They'll catch you and then they'll consume you! You can't give up on me!_

But his eyelids felt like someone was piling lead upon them, and his mind felt as if fluffy clouds were pouring into it through his ear. There was only one thing he could think of as he closed his eyes: _sleep_.

The next thing he knew, he was flying through the air.

"_Gah_!" he screamed, completely losing it. And then he started dropping.

It was then he realised that there was someone next to him that he'd been carried by – that was, until a few moments ago when she'd let go from surprise.

"Oh my- sorry!" she stammered as she recaught him with the tips of her fingers. "It's just you were kind of _really_ out of it, and you looked rather injured, and I didn't expect-"

The experiment wearily shook his hand from side to side. He still felt _really_ drowsy – too drowsy to care, in fact.

The person (a dark-skinned human woman with bushy hair) reaffirmed her grip on 426's torso so he wouldn't fall any further.

"We f-found you after w-we were running… and we d-didn't want t-to leave you to…"

She trailed off, staring straight ahead for a few seconds, and then resumed running.

_Urrrrg._

It was hard to think straight. Why were they running? It was keeping him awake, all this running – as they jolted up and down so did he, and that was _annoying_.

"So, little guy, how're you doing?" came a voice from somewhere else. 426 didn't respond.

The voice tried again. "I suppose you're one of Jumba's experiments, eh?"

At the mention of the word _Jumba_, something in his brain clicked. The cogs in his brain started grinding again, and for the first time since he'd found himself on the floor, he was thinking clearly.

The Swedish cyborg zombies were after them.

These people knew Jumba.

That means they were on his side.

Unless they were enemies, that is. What if they sold him out to the cyborgs?

But then why were they running away from them?

"How do you know Jumba?"

"Er, we m-met a w-while back," said the woman holding him.

"Yes, he and a pink character was going to rescue one of your friends, I believe," continued the other voice.

So, 419 was with them. And they were looking for Little Girl! They _had_ to be.

"Are we going to them?"

The bushy-haired woman glanced to her side.

"Hang on," said the other person. "Jameston to bridge – have you had any contact with our friends in the other ship?"

"Yes, actually," said a male voice, heavily overlaid with static – 426 guessed it was coming from some kind of communication device. "The one-eyed yellow one beamed to the cube a while back so he could lead his friends to the rendezvous point once they'd found the girl."

"Ah, thanks, just what I wanted to hear," replied Jameston.

"Glad to be of assistance. Grey out."

The woman who was holding him beamed.

"Excellent result, I'd say," said Jameston. "So, when we get back, we can patch you and any of your friends up who need it, and you can attend to your affairs and be on your way – I mean, I'd dare say you'd want to return to your own t- uh, your own home system as soon as possible."

So if everything went right, there could still be a happy ending.

No. There couldn't be any 'ifs'. Everything _was_ going to turn out right.

"Teresa, you holding him tight? Alright then, everyone, we have not a moment to lose! Let's get off this ship and reunite this fellow with his family!"

_Family_. They'd always teased Jumba about it, but now that the woman named Jameston had said it out loud, it didn't seem so silly. He, 419 and Jumba - they _were_ family. It's why they were here, fighting off creatures 426 had perhaps only seen in nightmares past. It's why they cared enough to follow each other onto this deity-forsaken place.

Because in a family, no-one gets left behind.


	59. Escape

**A/N: **We're _really_ close to the end now! To help myself along, I've started working on all the remaining chapters simultaneously - right now there are **five chapters left** (although that might change if I decide to split a chapter, which is unlikely.)

* * *

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek**  
**Chapter 59: Escape**

Time was of the essence.

They had to run, to get to the co-ordinates Pleakley had supplied them with. There was the only chance of hope, the glimmer of light that Lilo would be safe, that 426 would be with them, that everything would turn out okay.

Jumba glanced at the radar map on his communicator, upon which the co-ordinates of the transport point, transferred from the device Pleakley had brought with him, was marked with an orange cross.

They didn't have long to go.

Their escape with Lilo would have surely reached _Her_ by now. Surely she would be sending her drones to assimilate them. _Surely…_

Where _were_ the drones?

"We're drawing close," he murmured. "Be cautious."

Around another corner they edged. Jumba's eyes darted across the corridor, and he held his cannon forward – even if shooting at them didn't work, he could always use it as a club.

But there was still no-one there.

"Two-hundred metres," he announced.

No-one else spoke. Whether it was the scene that they just witnessed, whether they were angry at Jumba (and for excellent reason, or so he thought), or if they were just focusing on the task at hand, Jumba did not know. He would not bother them, though – he had his own duties to worry about, mainly the one slung across Pleakley's shoulder.

Internal bleeding, a broken rib-cage, arrhythmia. That was what his scans had told him; yet it hadn't completely hit him until he had _heard_ her heartbeat by ear – the irregular beating fluttering in and out like a butterfly with a broken wing.

Now, her breathing echoing along the halls, amplifying his dread a thousand times more. And he silently begged her to be strong, to continue breathing, to continue _living_.

"One-fifty."

Scampering claws before him told him that Stitch had climbed the ceiling and was now scouting ahead. He didn't tell him not to – he knew his experiment too well for that.

He glanced at 419. Her face was scrunched into a look of determination, her eyes fixated straight ahead, and her hands awkwardly wrapped around a plasma cannon about a third her size. He briefly wondered what she felt about him now, but that was soon interrupted by another thought.

The scampering had stopped.

Jumba took a short breath, held up his hand to indicate to the others to stop, and, once they had done so, peeked his head around the next corner.

At first there was nothing – nothing but swirling gas from a pipe that had come loose at some point, about halfway down the corridor.

And then came the sound.

_Pssh. Pssh. Pssh._

He turned back to the rest of the group.

"It appears that, to be making it to the teleport location, we will have to be making it past _them_. Anyone who doesn't want to do it-"

"This is the only way," said Pleakley. "Well," he hurriedly added, "there other ways, but the chances are th-"

"They'll probably assimilate us anyway," said 419, with a rather uncharacteristic smirk on her face. "At least this way they can't sneak up on us."

"Alright, then."

He looked at Experiment 419.

"419, you be staying here and guarding Little Girl. See if you can't get some shots in, eh?"

"_What? _But-"

"If we are _not_ successful, I will be needing someone fast, light and small to be getting to the transport location, and then coming back with backup – but that is meaning you have to be _staying out of way_ until that happens. Here's the communicator" – he threw the device to her – "good luck."

"But-"

Jumba held up his hand, and then turned to Pleakley.

"You are being my secondary. _Always_ be staying about a meter behind me. If things are to go, how-you-say, lopsided, you _must_ be falling back and protecting Little Girl until help arrives. If that is meaning abandoning this location, then so be it."

Pleakley nodded.

"626 and I will be taking point. Is everyone clear?"

No-one answered.

Then, the entire group embraced Jumba in a rather large hug.

"Be careful, friend," said Pleakley.

"You too," Jumba replied. "In fact, to all of you."

"You better come out of this one," 419 teasingly threatened from the general area of his leg.

"Iki chobo nala quatra," came the voice of Stitch (who from the weight on Jumba's shoulders, had landed on his head.)

"_No one gets left behind_," muttered Lilo in her sleep.

.Jumba glanced at her hanging over Pleakley's shoulder. He owed it to her to get her home.

"Alright, then," said Jumba, backing slowly as to break away from the hug. "We should get going."

Pleakley nodded and let Lilo down, propping her against a terminal; 419 crouched in front of her, leaning on the cannon that she held.

By now, the group of drones were visible, marching in that unervingly perfect unison that made Jumba feel as if he'd swallowed a bowling ball. Nothing should move that way. _Nothing_.

He quickly did a headcount. There were only seven, but any number of drones were that many _too_ many.

He gathered his wits together. True, their chances were slim, but he thought he could manage it. If their shields were weaker than the more "important" drones. If they were as slow in reacting as they were walking. _If…_

He turned to Pleakley. "Let's go."

* * *

He didn't know how long it took to get within range of the drones, but it seemed like the longest twenty meters he'd ever had to travel.

Once there, he knew what he would do. His finger tensed the trigger in antisipation.

Just a meter more…

_TWANG TWANG TWANG_

Jumba fired a volley of shots at the drones in the lead; they soared through the air, billowing like balloon buffeting in the wind, across the space between him and his target.

_SPLIFCH SPLIFCH SPLIFCH_

They splattered across their shields, and the beings continued walking as if nothing had happened.

Jumba started – things were already unravelling. Maybe if-

"_AKA TOOKIE!_"

From above, the figure of Experiment 626 flung down; he grabbed the head of one of the drones and brought it crashing to the floor. It did not attempt to move.

Two more drones collapsed from below, and sickening cracks indicated exactly what had been done to their necks.

Stitch quickly scrambled to, and then up, the wall, most likely to get a better position, but-

_SLAM._

One of the drones had pinned Stitch against the wall, and was now reaching his other hand towards him-

"_NO!"_

Anger rose from the pit of his stomach - they'd contorted 628 into a monster, forcibly taken control Lilo, and they were about to do it to Stitch as well-

No, he couldn't let them, couldn't let them harm anyone else, couldn't- he must stop them _here. _

And Jumba charged the drones, raising his weapon like a sword.

_"Jumba!"_ squealed Pleakley, but Jumba did not heed.

With a swift swing of his arm, he brought his cannon on top of the head of one of the drones; to his great surprise, the being fell to the ground. Perhaps they had misjudged his strength?

With renewed vigor, he rushed to the next drone, preparing to throw as much as he could into the swing.

He flung his arm towards the drone's head, hurling his weight so as to get as much power to the punch as possible.

But before the gun made contact, his arm stopped.

The drone held it still for a second, gripping it like a vice.

And in one swift motion, it twirled Jumba around, and he found himself found himself pushed against the wall.

He'd failed. There was nothing else to it – he'd failed everyone. He'd failed to get them all to the ship. He'd failed to protect Lilo from harm. He'd failed to return them home. The last few hours had been nothing but failure.

Well, he wasn't going to drag everyone else down with him.

"Pleakley, 419! While they're busy – there's only one to be getting around!" he shouted. They had to help themselves. They couldn't save him.

However, the two were now shooting down the corridor around the corner - apparently, a collection of drones were coming in from behind. He couldn't see if they were having any success, but from his own attempts, he doubted it.

"They are not mattering! Hurry up and- _ah_!"

Something sharp, long and wire-like pierced the back of his neck. The scene before him, perfectly clear before, became a blurry blotchy mess of gray and green and yellow and pink, and drowsyness swept over him.

_It was over, it was all over…_

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a blue flash of glimmering light. Probably just his brain dealing with the sensory overload of whatever the drones had injected him with, though-

_"Okay, people, rotating frequence, on my mark – fire!"_

No, it couldn't be… could it?

Everything around him sounded as if it was being filtered through an especially old radio now, warbling and muffled, so it was easy for Jumba to suspect that he was hearing things, especially since he was facing in the wrong direction to see what was going on.

But then, the sound of an energy weapon making contact rang close – so close that he could feel its heat radiating from the beam – and the drone that was holding him to the wall crumpled before him.

It _must_ be happening.

Jumba felt gravity take its hold over him, felt the ground impact against his left arm. As he watched, unable to move for how heavy his body felt, blotchy black figures with red and yellow sholders rushed towards him.

"Doctor Jumba, I presume?" the familiar voice of Captain Jameston asked.

Jumba nodded and smiled. Now that he was safe, he could finally sleep.


	60. The Jaws of Defeat

**Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek**  
**Chapter 60: The Jaws of Defeat**

When he regained conciousness, Jumba's head felt as if it had been hit by a truck.

He groaned, rubbing his temple. If he could choose a time to be awakened, it would definitely not be now.

"Ah, yes. Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. Jookiba,"

He opened his eyes to glaring lights and the face of a balding man.

He tried remembering the last few minutes he'd been awake. He'd been running with Pleakley to meet with the drones. And then he was here. There was something missing,

This was a trick. It _had_ to be a trick. They'd removed the last part of his memories, and now what he was seeing was some kind of illusion. Something to lower his guard while the assimilation takes place? Well, he wasn't going to fall for it. If he was going to become a mindless droid, he was going to do so without ignorance.

"You will experience a slight headache as a side effect of the treatment," the man continued. "Don't worry, the effects should subside within the hour."

'Effects' most likely meaning 'everything that made him an individual'.

The lights above him were now beginning to burn into his eyes, so he decided to attempt to sit up. And, to his great surprise, he found he could – complete control of his body was his, and he was completely unrestrained.

And, for the first time, he'd noticed he was in a place that was as un-Borg-like as possible. Sleek, gray walls with gradual bends, black computer screens lining them seamlessly, multicoloured diagrams with words – in _English_ – and no sign of pipes or wires anywhere.

It was a trick. He was being assimilated, and none of this was real.

The man he had seen was now in front of him, looking among several oddly-shaped containers. Jumba noticed he was wearing a similar uniform to the crew of the _Serenity_, except the top of his was bottle-green. Obviously, the Borg had got the colours wrong when they were reproducing this… this _simulation_.

At that moment, all the containers began… _clinking_. For a few seconds they did so, before settling down again. The man shook his head, and then continued browsing.

Odd.

"Although, I must admit I was unsure you'd recover," he continued as he picked one and placed it inside a long, thin instrument. "Your vitals dipped dangerously low at several points – but it seems you've done so nicely."

He walked over to the table next to Jumba's, and proceeded to press the instrument in some fashion against the temple of the patient who lay there. Jumba tried to see who it was, but the body was covered in a sheet, and the man was in the way of the head. Still, it was clear he was doing _something_, and a soft _pssh_ sound seemed to confirm his musing – perhaps it was some kind of spray?

Yes, some kind of assimilation spray. It _had_ to be the case. He was assimilating some hapless victim, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"I have to say, though, I was far more worried about your young friend's prognosis here than anyone elses," said the man, gesturing towards the person who lay on the table as he did, "but I'm delighted to say she'll make a full recovery."

_Friend? 'She'll'? Does he mean-_

As the man drew away, Jumba's saw his suspicion confirmed, and a fresh wave of guilt drew over him – it was Lilo lying in the bed.

"She's lucky she got to me when she did. An hour or more would have greatly decreased her chances of survival – or my ability to repair the damage from her physical injuries."

Jumba stared at the little girl that lay before him, as her mouth sucked in small bursts of air, and then blew them out again, her chest rising and falling in lock-step.

How could he let this happen?

"As her caregiver, there are some things you ought to know," said the man, browsing through the vials once more.

"Er, I'm not-" Jumba began to say, but then remembered that he was talking to an illusion.

Besides, the man was precisely right. He was supposed to have acted as her protector – he was the person of authority on this trip, and she had depended on him to get her home safely. He had completely failed.

A low, muffled rumbling noise drew him from his thoughts, and the vils clinked again. Of course – the cube was obviously being attacked by outside forces.

They probably wouldn't get to them in time. In fact, they'd probably just blow up the cube – if they themselves didn't get destroyed.

"We are unable," the man continued, seemingly oblivious to both Jumba's internal moral dilemma and the goings on of the outside world., "to remove the cortical node and occular implants with our current technology; additionally, the nanoprobes in her bloodstream will remain, albeit inert. These should theoretically pose no impediment to her day-to-day life; however, you should be aware that there have been relativitly rare cases of complications arising, including immunal rejection of implants, and clogging of the arteries from dormant nanoprobes – I'd advise regular checkups with your normal medical officer."

He picked another vial from the shelf and swapped the existing container for it in his instrument.

"Additionally, victims of Borg assimilation are known to experience severe psychological effects, including depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress syndrome. If any symptoms exibit themselves, I recommend you consult the ship's counsellor for treatment options."

The way he said it was in a sort of clinical, detatched manner, as if he was discussing the weather over morning tea. Jumba chalked it up to the Borg not understanding emotion enough to properly simulate it – no doctor he'd ever known (for by now it was more than obvious the man was _supposed to be_ a doctor) had ever managed to retain a professional tone as opposed to a sympathetic one when discussing bad news of this scale, even if they had attempted to.

What _was_ the purpose of all this? Did they think that this ruse, elaborate as it was, would make him more accepting of assimulation? Why didn't they just get it over w-

A chime rang through the air. The simulated doctor looked up towards the door.

"Ah, I dare say that'd be your other charges," said the doctor. "Come!"

And before he knew quite what was happening, he found his vision completely obscured by a large yellow head with a single ginormous eye.

"_Omigosh omigosh omigosh _you're _alive! _Wealmostthoughtwe'dlostyou, , andwethoughtyoumightbedead – butyou're _not _deadandthey _aren't _lowandyou're _awake_ and, well, _here you are!_"  
And he gave Jumba an even bigger hug than he had before.

"Uncle Jumba Jookiba!" came the voice of 419 from the area of his right leg.

Jumba's brain was still struggling to understand precisely what was going on. The few words he managed to splutter out, however, were "this isn't a simulation?"

"Simu- of _course_ not!" said Pleakley. "Don't you remember? The captain of that Earth ship beamed in just in the nick of time and saved us!"

"Would've been there sooner, too," came, from behind Pleakley, the voice of Captain Jameston. "But those scoundrals knocked out some central power couplings after we arrived back. Only took us twenty minutes to repair it, but those were the longest twenty minutes of my life – and I daresay the same for you."

Pleakley lept to the side, stood completely straight, and saluted the woman.

"At _ease_, agent!" the Captain said, seemingly startled by Pleakley's sudden gesture. "We're all friends here, no need to go all formal on me."

"Sorry, force of habit," Pleakley replied.

Captain Jameston nodded.

"So, about your friend there – Lilo, wasn't it? The good news is that we'll be able to remove most of the armour and implants the Borg, well, implanted in her, Even better, we'll be able to replace the mechanical limbs they gave her with more realistic ones – I daresay you wouldn't want her going back with a pincer for a hand."

Jumba briefly mused that, before all this had happened, she probably would have thought that having a pincer for a hand would be _awesome_.

But his thoughts was interrupted by the sound of a familiar, if feeble, voice from the other end of the room.

"That's… that's great. She's finally safe."

It took a few seconds for Jumba to realise exactly who was speaking, and then a few seconds more to realise the significance, by which time everyone else had already huddled around the table across the room.

And by the time Jumba had got to his feet and lumbered over to the table, 419 was giving Experiment 426 the biggest hug she could muster.

"-and we were so _scared_ and – promise me you'll _never_ go off on your own like that!"

"But I _didn't_-

"_Promise me!_"

426 smiled.

"Alright, sis, I promise."

"Found him while we were escaping from our own set of drones," explained Jameston. "He'd near passed out when we encountered him, but I daresay he'd been looking for you guys."

"_Ahem_," said the doctor, tapping on Jumba's shoulder. "Excuse me, but it would be better if he is left alone for now. Osteogenic regeneration takes time, even with the stimulator, and while his bones are for the most part repaired, they will remain delicate for some time."

"Oh…sorry," said 419, letting 426 go.

"As for _you_, Mr. Jookiba, you can go now, but I'd recommend caution while operating equipment," the doctor continued. "Also, for the next few hours avoid changing your lateral position quickly – many people have experienced severe vertigo when doing so, while a significant number have passed out."

Jumba nodded.

"Er, if I might ask you, doctor," said Pleakley, "what's your name, exactly?"

"I don't have a name," the doctor replied.

"You _don't_? What should we call you, then?"

"You can call me the Emergency Medical Hologram, EMH, or just 'doctor' – any one will do." He sighed. "I _might_ be a skilled physician, but I am intended to be a temporary replacement only. Most likely, I won't be around long enough for you to need to go beyond any of those terms."

"Woah, cool, a hologram!" exclaimed 426.

Jumba had to admit to himself that he was somewhat impressed as well – not at the holographic part (they had been around for decades), but at the complicated AI that apparently made him tick. Even Turian AIs weren't _that_ good.

Although, being a hologram ceratinly explained his apparent lack of sympathy – he wan't programmed with any, most likely because it was beyond what he was designed to do.

The doctor looked somewhat confused at 426's fascination with him. No doubt holograms came as standard on spaceships these days.

Another rumbling noise pulsed through the ship.

"Ah, that reminds me," said Jameston, gesturing for the exit. "Jumba, Pleakley, could you come with me?"

"Er… wait." Jumba turned to the doctor. "Where is 626?"

"Oh, the blue creature? He woke up a while ago. He's sitting over there – he insisted he be somewhere he could see the whole room."

High above their heads, Stitch sat on a metal panel that appeared to have been attached sideways to the wall with some sort of magnet, his face expressionless, glassy eyes fixed on Lilo's bed below.

"He's been like that for a while," said the doctor. "Psychiatry isn't part of my core parameters, but I would suggest he is undergoing some kind of emotional shock."

"Stitch?" asked Pleakley hesitantly.  
Stitch glanced at Pleakley, and then returned his gaze to Lilo.

"For now, I would leave him – he needs space to recover," said the doctor. "If he does not improve after the recovery of his friend, I would suggest further oversight from the ship's councillor."

Jumba made to say something, but stopped. He hated to see his experiment like this, but the doctor was right – he needed space.

"We better leave you to your patients, then," said Jameston. "Jumba, Pleakley, with me."

* * *

The first time he entered the bridge, Jumba couldn't shake off the feeling of, well, _familiarity_. Sure, Galactic Federation ships had most of their controls at the front, not the back, and there were more buttons and less touchscreens, but overall the _style_ was very similar.

"Ensign Grey, status report," commanded the Captain.

"Well, sir, it appears the Borg have adapted to our magnetosignal shield – they know where we are," Grey reported, not moving his eyes from the screen ahead. "We've been attempting to give them the runaround – Mips is doing a fantastic job at that, but every now and then they land one on us."

"I agree – great job Malo," said the Captain. "Alright, if my calculations are correct, the charges we set should go off any moment now, so let's hope for some fireworks!"

Charges? As in explosives? On the Borg cube?

But Jumba did not see the need to press for details – he felt what he'd ascertained was accurate enough. And so, for several minutes after this statement, everyone in the bridge sat silent in anticipation of the presumed Earth-shattering kaboom one would expect in such an explosion. (That is, all apart from the Captain, who muttered things like "c'mon" or "any moment now" under her breath every few minutes.)

Jumba wasn't entirely sure of his human expressions of speech, but he felt this situation called for one – something like 'everyone held their breathing' or 'the quiet was so thick you could slice with sharp kitchen impliment'. But after a few more minutes of this, the computer made a two-toned beep, and the Captain sighed.

"Alright, it seems we fumbled," she said, unconsciously glancing towards Bamez.

"Not surprised in the least," replied Ericson quickly. "We _did_ have to rush setting up the remaining charges after those drones showed up.

"True, Ellie. Well then, time for Plan B, I guess. Ming, send the remote signal."

"Aye, captain," replied Ensign Ming, tapping the commands into her console. "Uh - oh crud, they're blocking our frequencies."

"Crumbs!" She scratched her chin. "We'll have to go back and reset the charges manually – there's no other way. Delarkey, is there any way you could get us closer?"

"Well, last time I had to put you guys in a place we could scan," replied someone through the ship's speakers. (Jumba noticed Pleakley perk slightly, as if he recognised the speaker – no doubt they'd met when Pleakley teleported over.) "You know, so I didn't put you in a wall or something? Well, thanks to your commbadges, I can project where you went from there, so I can put you somewhere nice and close – provided they haven't sweeped the rug out from under us, so to speak."

"Ah, that's just what I wanted to hear," the Captain said. "Alright, time to-"

It was that moment that she was cut off by the ship suddenly lurching, thereby flinging Jumba forward into the back of the captain's chair.

He rubbed his head – captain's chairs were surprisingly well built in the future. He then used the top of the seat to pull himself up; after doing which he surveyed exactly what had happened.

Everyone else appeared to have been flung forward about three feet, and many were doing basically what he'd just done. Jameston had been flung to the floor, and was now pulling herself onto her knees; Grey was already using his knee to support himself while he stood up. Ming and Malo had been thrown across their consoles, and were pushing themselves back to their seats. Behind them, Bamez and Ericson had had better luck – because their consoles were facing away from the main screen, they had fell backwards onto their bottoms, and thus had easily been able to stand themselves back up without much trouble.

Jumba turned back to the screen, which now had plastered across it a thick green beam seemingly eminating from the cube plastered across it,

"They've locked on," Ensign Ming confirmed as soon as she was back in her seat.

"No damage, only mild injuries reported," Barmez chimed in.

The Captain breathed a sigh of relief. "Ming, any chance of phasers?"

"Sorry, captain, they're still out, and we've no luck contacting Engineering down there."

"Alright," the Captain said, "we'll need to act fast then. Bamez, Ericson, go see what's going on with Engineering. Ming, Malo, see me inTransporterBay-"

"Captain!" Ming exclaimed, pointing at the screen.

A white-hot beam of energy had shot out of the cube, aiming for the back of the ship.

Moments later, the lights flickered, several consoles sparked, the screen and all control panel lights flashed off, and the bridge was left in darkness. A few seconds passed before dim red lamps fllickered on, lighting the area with a somewhat eerie glow, and power was restored to consoles and the main screen.

Ming's fingers scampered over the touch panel in front of her.

"From what little I can tell from our remaining sensors, they've cut through our main power couplings – we've only emergency power. Captain, we're dead in space."

Captain Jameston frowned, and rubbed her head.

"Mr. Jookiba, Mr. Pleakley, any ideas?"

"Well," said Pleakley, "if we have nothing to lose, you _could_ rig your your hyperdrive with explosives and set it to detonate near the ship."

"Yes, we saw your handiwork there," repled Ming. "Nice shooting!"

"If it's anything like we saw, they should set off the detonators, no problem!" said Bamez.

"Indeed," agreed Jameston. "And that'll mean the end of the cube."

Jumba frowned.

"Have the Borg had much contact with your technology?"

"I see where you're going," repled Ming. "Unfortunately, yes – they'd probably have their shields configured to shield a reaction from _our_ warp drive."

"The only reason ours was working so well was probably because it was being – how you say – so antiquated by now."

Jumba felt slightly saddened at this idea – he was fairly sure when he'd built the hyperdrive that it had been one of the most advanced of its time – but in the context of this time period it was probably true.

"These Borg haven't encountered it before," he continued, "so – if I am being right – can't have adapted to it. It probably wouldn't be working with another one of ours, let alone yours"

"I think it's still worth a shot," said the Captain, "and it's better than sitting around waiting for them to assimilate us." She paused for a moment. "But in case it doesn't work, tell all hands to prepare for evacuation."

"Captain!" exclaimed Malo, twisting around in her chair. "You can't abandon the _Serenity_! She needs us!"

"We're _completely_ disabled, and beyond useless tactically," Ming countered.

"And besides," continued Jameston, "we can get another ship. We _can't_ replace you guys."

She turned to face Jumba and Pleakley.

"_Anyway_, we have a commitment to get these beings home, whatever may come. We at least owe them that."


	61. Bolt From The Blue

******Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
Chapter ****61: Bolt From The Blue**

After having experienced more than a lifetime's share of Borg architecture, Jumba was immensely glad to be running along corridors that weren't dark, green, or spewing various gasses about.

The _Serenity_ may have been critically damaged, but from the empty hallways spaced through the ship, one would not know it at all. The clean sleek grey walls produced an air of professionalism, of 'stay calm and carry on' attitude, even as klaxons rang throughout the ship, and red lamps blinked from every wall. There were no piles of loose wires, no sparking consoles or exploding screens – if anything, the lack of _anything_ happening rather jarred with the dangerously critical situation they now found themselves in.

The hyperdrive engine, or 'warp core', as these people called it, was situated in the Engineering bay – in fact, as Jumba had heard it, it _ran through_ the center, in a transparent shaft that allowed the engineering crew to see directly the matter-antimatter reactions occurring in the core itself. Jumba guessed that, since an accident with the warp core would mean total annihilation, they decided they might as well have it where everyone could access it directly, without hopping into a space suit.

It was while pondering the managemental and architectural decisions of this human ship that Jumba realised that something had been nagging at him for a while in the back of his brain – the crew, or rather, lack thereof. An official exploration starship of this size, _easily_ five times that of his own ship _at least_, should at least have a few hundred crew, but, apart from their convoy, there was no-one at all to be seen in the hallways of the _Serenity_.

Jumba decided that that was a question for another time, and instead focused on the task at hand. They were now nearing Engineering, or so he was informed by the woman named Barmez; soon they would be tying explosives to something that _bent the very fabric of space_. They needed to have their wits about them.

"Alright, it's just down this hall," called Barmez.

At the end of the hallway was a set of sliding doors. The only thing that singled them out from every _other_ door on the ship was the fact that they were so much _wider_ than any of the others.

Barmez waited a few seconds for the doors to open; when they did not, she pressed the call button. But nothing happened.

"We'll have to use the emergency release," muttered Ericson. Barmez nodded and, sliding a panel open, attempted to pull forward a lever inside.

Sparks flashed from the top corners of the doors and, for a moment, they began to open. But when only a tiny sliver was open, the motors stopped whirring, and the doors came to a halt.

"Oy, is there anyone in there!" shouted Jameston.

"Captain!" a male voice responded. "Yeah, we're all right – there were a few fires, but they're out now."

"Hey, is that a rescue party?" called another, this one female.

"It's the captain!" the first replied to the other.

"The captain?" responded another male, and a fair number more began to whisper amongst themselves.

"Shh, quiet!" said the first.

"We've just been trying to reroute power around the broken couplings," the second explained. "But the power keeps cutting in and out, and anyway, without direct access to the Jeffries on Deck 8, we've had little success."

"What should we do?" whispered Ericson. "The door's jammed tight!"  
"I have an idea," replied Barmez, and she whispered it into Jameston's ear.

"Ooh, I've always wanted to try that," replied the captain, grinning. "Ever since I heard of Captain Pike's adventures on Thalos VI."

Pleakley and Jumba exchanged nervous glances.

"Olson, Carmichael, reroute power from any non-essential places you can access and create a localised forcefield behind the doors," the captain commanded. "It shouldn't have enough power to reach too far, and we're going to aim away from the warp core, but we want to keep any potential damage at a minimum. Give the field as much juice as you can muster."

"Yes, sir!" the two replied.

"Come on, everybody, you heard the lady!" shouted the female voice, and a small collection of footsteps could be heard leading away from the door.

_Damage_? If anything, that made Jumba feel even _more_ nervous. Were they going to try to cut their way in?

"Ericson, get me two cutting phasers, on the double."

"Right, ma'am!" she said, and with that she disappeared down the corridor.

It was only a few minutes before she returned, carrying on either shoulder something that looked more like a thin, long rocket-propelled grenade launcher than the pistol-like phasers they generally carried.

"Here you are, captain," called Ericson, and she threw one to Jameston, who caught it effortlessly. If there was one thing that Jumba noted about this, it was that the cutting phasers certainly weren't _as heavy_ as RPG launchers – either that, or everyone in the future possessed quite a bit more strength.

"Alright, the forcefield's up," called the man from behind the doors.

"Everyone, stand back," said Jameston.

Jumba needed no telling twice – he jogged backwards about a third of the way down the hallway. Pleakley quickly scampered after him, and Barmez brought up the rear.

"Okay, then – Ericson, I'll do the left side, you do the right, then we swap. Make sure your settings are at their lowest. On my mark"

"Roger," said Ericson, and with that she pointed the phaser at a point on the bottom of the door about a quarter away from the right edge. Jameston, in turn, pointed it at the same position from the left edge.

"Fire!"

And, almost in unison, the two held their triggers down.

Firey-orange beams shot from the phasers and hit the steel doors, and as the two moved up and around the shape of the door, a pit of molten metal was left behind, marking the path the phaser took. Tiny orange sparks leapt from the point of contact, but soon dissipated into thin air.

When the two beams reached a point a few centimetres from the door's edge in the middle, Jameston and Ericson disengaged their weapons, swapped sides, and then began to trace the path the other made. This time, the phaser wore the trench all the way through – glimpses of blue and red light could be spied through the path they left behind.

"Alright, time to make a hasty retreat," said Jameston as she finished her section, and with that, she and Ericson rushed back to the positions the others had taken.

No sooner had they done so, a tremendous metallic sound rang out from the door; a moment later, the weight of the cut sections of door grew too much for the small connecting pieces they had left to continue to hold, and they toppled over, coming to the ground with a tremendous crash.

"Thank goodness, Captain!" exclaimed the male, a yellow-topped uniform-wearing man with somewhat scruffy-brown hair, as he emerged from the opening. "We thought-"

"No time for celebrations yet, Olson" interrupted Jameston. "We've still got a Borg ship out there, and it's still a threat to not only our lives, but the lives of _every living thing_ in the Federation."

"So call the blasted Federation!" shouted the woman, a blonde with very curly hair, who wore the same uniform as her colleague. "Without weapons and engines we're useless here!"

"No can-do, Carmichael," replied Jameston.

"Why _not_?"

"Unfortunately, they disabled our long-range communications," said Barmez. "We only have radio-frequency ship-to-ship, and even _that_'s patchy at best."

Carmichael groaned.

"So I guess it's abandon ship? Un_less_-" and here she slanted her left eyebrow "-you have one of those hair-brained schemes brewing up in your noggin."  
"You are _not_ to talk to the captain in th-" began Ericson, but the Captain waved her hand.

"She's quite right – although it's not _my_ hair-brained scheme this time," she replied. "Mr. Pleakley, you have the floor."

"M-_me_?" Pleakley squeaked.

The captain nodded.

"We're _really_ going to trust the safety of the ship_ and_ the Federation on someone we just… _picked up_?" said Carmichael.

"Yes we are," replied the captain. "At the very worst, it won't _hurt_."

"For once, I have to agree with Carmichael," said Olson. "It does seem… convenient that we meet these people in the Delta Quadrant right next to a Borg cube, and they turn up in the Alpha Quadrant as well – with the very same cube!"

"Thank you, Olson – as little a chance I get to say that."

"We came through Bajoran wormhole!" replied Jumba.

"The exit point of the Bajoran wormhole in the Gamma Quadrant is _hundreds_ of light-years away from where we found you, and your ship was damaged!"

"We were towed through another wormhole by asteroid's gravitational pul-"

"Oh, an _asteroid_." Carmichael looked to Jameston. "Captain, for all we know he could be some sort of sp-"

"_I_ trust him," said Jameston. "Now, if you have any further objections, I will note them in my log. Do I make myself _clear_?"

Carmichael folded her arms defiantly.

"As crystal," she said through gritted teeth

"Now, Pleakley.

"Er… right then. Uh- do you have some kind of drawing-space?"

"You can use my console," said Olson, and he walked over to a panel and tapped a few console buttons. '_Restricted-Access Physics Diagram Generator_' flashed across the screen, before being replaced by a blank area with a few buttons around the top.

"Alright, thank you… uh, Mr. Olson. Now, well, I used a 230 kiloumpra blast, but for your- uh, what is the strength rating for the matter-antimatter reaction capsule?"

* * *

It took a few minutes for Pleakley to explain exactly what he had done to the hyperdrive, a fact not helped by the differing terminology and technologies involved. Although it had technically been _Jumba's _plan, he stayed silent, only watching to make sure Pleakley didn't say anything wrong. After all, Pleakley was almost _never_ in the limelight, and besides, he appeared to be making no worse a job explaining it than he himself would have done, minus his thick accent.

That wasn't to say he had _no_ problems – he did stutter quite a bit about it; after all, Pleakley had _never_ done well in front of people he wasn't familiar with.

"I _think_ we could make this work," said Carmichael, finally, after the presentation was complete.

Pleakley gave a nervous smile. "Oh, uh, thank y-"

"I still don't trust you," she snapped back, and Pleakley shrank back slightly.

"Alright, we have a lot to do, and little to do it in, so let's get cracking!" said Jameston. "Pleakley, you stay here and supervise – come up to the bridge when you're done. Ericson, make sure nothing… _untoward _happens."

"But Captain-"

"I'll send a security detail down to relieve you, but until then I'll need someone keeping the peace. We'll probably be at sickbay when they arrive, so meet us there okay?"

Ericson nodded.

"Barmez, Jookiba, with me."

"Uh… what for the going with, Captain-lady?" Jumba replied.

"You look like a strong person, Mr. Jookiba, would I be right?"

"Well, I _was_ best in class for shot-putting and weights-"

"And you're very good with technology?"

"Very good? Jumba is being _much more_ than 'very good'. Why-"

"Excellent," said Jameston. "We'll be heading to the transporter room to make sure everything's alright there, and to check in with Malo, and then we'll duck into the infirmary – we'll have to discuss the evacuation plans with the EMH there. If we come across any problems – blocked accesses, computer malfunctions – I could use all the hands I can get."

"Er… okay," said Jumba.

He didn't think it was the _best_ reasoning, but he didn't really have many objections, so he followed the two out the door and into the corridor beyond.

* * *

"I'm telling you, the chances are slim I could get it to _respond_, let alone _work_," a husky male voice could be heard saying, echoing down the hallway that Jumba, Jameston and Ericson were walking down. "From what I can tell, both the primary a_nd_ auxiliary power couplings all got fried, and even _then_ we wouldn't have enough juice to get it going."

"Couldn't you just reroute power-" began the voice of Malo – here, Bamez silently brought her palm to her forehead – but the other voice cut her off.

"Darling, you're an excellent pilot, but don't think about picking up engineering any time soon," he said. "The emergency power's already stretched thin as it is, and a transporter needs a _lot_ of power – I couldn't free up enough non-essential sections to do so."

The trio rounded a corner and stopped – before them was a door that was sliding some way forward, and then back again. Beside it stood Ming, attempting to tap out some codes on the console, every now and then glancing at it worryingly.

"Well, that's the transporter room," announced Barmez with a somewhat fearful look on her face, as if she was about to be asked to jump through it herself.

"Teresa!" shouted Ming when she heard her voice. "And… Vi!"

"Good to see ya, Yuks," said Jameston, "Oy, Miles, how're you doing!"

"Captain!" exclaimed the male voice. "You don't know how good it is to hear from you."

"I'm guessing that's a 'fine; then." Jameston replied. "Malo, how'd you get in?"

"Oh, I ran in," Malo replied. "It was just a matter of timing it right."

"Gave me a bloody scare doing it, too!" the man named Miles said. "Do me a favour – next time you're going to try something like that, shout a warning first!"

"Um, sorry?"

"Not the time for this discussion," said Jameston. "Barmez, we need to disable that door."

"Right, on it," said Barmez, and, opening up an access panel in the wall, she took out a yellow-coloured translucent board from a slot within. The doors slowed and then stopped, with just enough space in the gap between them for a human to narrowly squeeze through.

"It sounds like you're having some trouble getting things started," Jameston observed when the two had made it to the other side of the door..

"More than enough," replied Miles. "We're in desperate need of a spacedock right now – the damage's too extensive to get transporters working again."

"Don't need to tell us twice," said Jameston. "But we're unfortunately rather short of spacedocks right now, so I'm afraid we're _all_ out of luck in that regard. We _do_ have a plan, though – it's down in Engineering, and we'd need all the hands we can get."

"Sounds interesting," said Miles. "I'm in, if it means actually _doing_ something."

She nodded, and turned to face the rest of the group.

"Malo, Ming, with us to the bridge, if you don't mind. If something goes wrong, the Borg probably won't be terribly pleased, and I'll need my best pilot and tactical officer there."

"Aye, captain," the two replied in unison.

"Alright," she said, a determined look in her eye. "Let's go."

* * *

It was still a fair way to the turbolift to go when a rather curious thing happened (or at least, Jumba had thought so.) Miles slowed his pace so that he was walking with them instead of the group of humans ahead.

"_They're talking about you two,_" he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

"Really!?" exclaimed Pleakley, which caused a few awkward glances from the human group, "Uh, sorry, Mr. Delarky was telling us a tale about- never mind, it's not important."

They turned back and continued with their chatter,

"_You should have said something about the Gorn – I tell that one a lot,_" continued Miles. "_Yeah, they are – but I wouldn't worry about it. Just thought you aught to know."_

Despite his attempts to appease their curiosity, the two nonetheless quickened their own pace so that they were within earshot of the Captain.

"-_and you guys are my most trusted crewmembers – and friends,_" Jameston was saying. "_Your opinions are important to me. That's why I wanted to ask you if you thought I'm right for trusting the two aliens._"

"_I trust them,_" replied Malo. "_I mean, they've had plenty of times to betray you before – and back then, we were far more vulnerable than we are now and they didn't do anything._"

"_Well-_" began Barmez.

"_I'm not too sure,_" interrupted Ming. "_I know you used to know them long ago, but there's no telling when in the past or future of that point these ones come from. After all, people change._"

"_And Carmichael did make a good point about them showing up wherever the Borg cube did,_" Barmez continued. "_Still, I trust them if you do._"

"_I don't,_" said Ming, _"but if they try anything, me and Ellie – in fact, all of us – will have your back._"

"_Thanks, guys,_" replied Jameston. "_That's all I needed to know._"

So, they _did_ know them at some point in time – most likely somewhere in the future, since Jumba didn't remember ever meeting them before. He would need to make sure conversation steered away from their possible futures, then – too much knowledge about what was to come could be a _bad_ thing indeed.

The rest of the journey to the lift was fairly uneventful – no-one really talked at all, and they didn't run into any problems. The ride _in_ the lift, however, was far from quiet – Pleakley and Miles talked excitedly about Earth (although Miles was somewhat surprised that they knew of the planet), and Jameston, Malo, Barmez and Ming talked in hushed tones between each-other.

Not having anyone with which to converse, Jumba idly watched the lights in the shaft beyond pass them by as they rose steadily upwards.

"Well, this is us," announced Jameston as the lift slowed. "Malo, Ming, we'll see you on the bridge, and Delarky, good luck! The rest of you, with me."

The curious quartet – Jameston, Barmez, Jumba and Pleakley – all exited the lift, the three others following Jameston. Down much more familiar corridors she led them – Jumba could tell that they were heading for the infirmary once again.

"Ah, you're back," said the holographic Doctor when they arrived. "You'll be pleased to know that nothing's changed in their conditions, although I recommend continual-"

"We need to prepare the patients for evacuation," interrupted Jameston. "Can you carry that out?"

"_Evacutation_?" He mopped his brow. "I can _prepare_, yes, but unless you have a mobile emitter handy, one of you will have to stay behind to take them to the escape pods."

"I'll do it," volunteered Jumba.

"No can do," said Jameston. "Teresa, you-"

"I can walk by _myself_," called the voice of Experiment 426.

"Uh, that's not such a goo-"

"_Argh!_" he yelled – he'd tried to stand up, and had just as quickly been felled by the pain pulsing through his leg.

"I told you so," said the Doctor curtly, grabbing an instrument and tapping a few buttons on it. "Hmm – you're lucky you didn't re-fracture your tibia."

"_I'll_ take Mr. Just Enough Rope," said 419. "You can _lean_, can't you?"

"As long as he doesn't put any weight on his right leg, he should be fine," the Doctor confirmed.

"Well, I guess that just leaves the little girl," said Jameston. "As I was-"

But she stopped, and Jumba turned to see why – Stitch had jumped from his place in the rafters, so to speak, and was now solemnly walking across to them.

"I'll… do… it," he murmured.

Jumba caught his eye for a moment, and started – there was none of that spark that he knew so well, just emptiness and hopelessness.

Stitch looked away, and Jumba understood why – he couldn't bear to look at him.

"Al_right_ then," Jameston said, perhaps a little more peppery than she intended. "Let's-"

She was interrupted by the sound of running through the corridors; a few seconds later, Ericson burst through the door.

"_Reporting – as – requested – sir_," she said between gulps of air.

"At ease, Els!" exclaimed Jameston. "Now that everything's settled here, back to the bridge, all of us."

* * *

It had been five minutes since they had arrived at the bridge, and everything _seemed_ to be going smoothly, despite the impacts that landed every now and then. Jumba knew that it was an illusion – nothing _ever_ goes smoothly on a battlefield.

He glanced at Ericson, who had been, as he was uncomfortably aware of, staring at him for the past few minutes. She instinctively busied herself in the console in front of her.

On the way back, her, Ming, Bamez and Malo had exchanged some more words with the Captain; unfortunately, it had been too short a conversation for him and Pleakley to sneak up on.

Finally, the computer beeped.

"_Captain, we're ready!_" the voice of Carmichael said.

"Alright, deploy it."

"_Yessir, Captain!_" Carmichael affirmed.

A moment of silence elapsed. Everyone seemed to be listening for some sign, _any_ sign, that the plan was working.

And then, a shuddering sound filled the air, vibrated the consoles and the floors and Jumba's bones with a rattling feeling that lasted for a good five seconds.

"_Warp core deployed_," said Carmichael after the shuddering stopped.

"Alright, bring us about," said the Captain. "Forward shields, full power; forward viewscreen active, please."

The Borg vessel appeared on the viewscreen, almost glaring at them as if to dare them to try to attack it.

Soon, the warp core, still glowing bright blue, floated onscreen, towards the cube. Jumba stared at it – in the engineering room, it had appeared absolutely _massive_, but against the cube, it looked like a flea or a gnat.

"Steady," commanded Jameston as it floated through the Borg's shields undisturbed, the area around it buzzing and flashing as it did. "Bamez, highest zoom setting and HUD, please."

Even at the highest zoom setting, the image of the core looked like a hyperdermic needle placed next to an elephant. Then again, hadn't the shuttle hyperdrive been _far_ smaller still?

It looked a hair's bredth away, and even as the heads-up display read "125,000 m to object", Jumba couldn't help the nervous feeling – what if they ran _into_ it? The explosion wouldn't _nearly_ be as explosive, and-

_"Now!"_ shouted Jameston.

It was true what they say – if you've seen one explosion, you've seen them all. But while that phrase sets the baseline of expectation, it didn't quite match the experience _itself_ – the swirling, billowing clouds of gas merging and splitting and merging again, forming shadows and shapes and colours that made no two explosions _quite_ alike.

This is why shows and movies about explosions were so popular, Jumba mused – everyone loves a good explosion.

"They've disengaged their tractor beam," reported Ming.

"Barmez, take whatever power you can and put those shieldsup," ordered Jameston.

"Aye," replied Barmez, tapping furiously at her console.

But the smoke parted, and sinking feeling filled the pit of his stomach as the Borg ship flew through it, with very little, if any, damage at all.

Muttered whispers filled the room, and many of the crew exchanged _very_ nervous glances. Pleakley gasped, and clutched his lower lip.

Jameston glared at it for just a second, then turned to Ming.

"Initiate a ship-wide announcement, all channels, and printout on all stations. Evacuate this ship imm-"

"Captain," Bamez interrupted. "I'd belay that. We've got three ships, inbound. One is an old-style signature, and the others-"

She stood up in astonishment, eyes looking to her Captain as if she dare not believe it herself without her confirmation.

"It's the Federation!"

"Incoming communications!" said Ming excitedly. "Two of the ships are hailing us!"

"Don't just sit there, put them onscreen!" replied Jameston, a smile spreading across her lips.

The screen flashed, and two bridges appeared, side-by-side. On the right was a bridge much like the one they were standing in now. The various stations were lined with people; in the middle stood a pale man with short, shiny hair, almost as if it had been slicked with some hair jel a bit _too_ often. And on the right, a large chair, larger than any man, was facing away from the screen.

"Hello there," a deep voice rang though the room, and Jumba stood back with disbelief. It was _impossible_.

"We saw you were having a little _trouble_," said the man on the right side of the screen.

"And we thought we might as well help you out," said the voice, and as the chair turned around, Jumba's suspicions were confirmed.

Captain Gantu sat in the middle of the left portion of the screen, grinning from eye to eye.


	62. Checkmate

******Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
Chapter**** 62: Checkmate**

Deep in the depths of the cube, it could be said that things were not going smoothly.

"_Alert: significant threat detected. Designation: USS Rhode Island registry number NCC-72701. Technology: phase-disrupting cannon and multi-phased shielded hull plating. Recommendation: temporary retreat until rein-"_

"No!" the Queen demanded. "We _must_ get the girl back or else finish her off – at all costs! Without her, everything goes to waste, and if we wait any longer they will succeed!"

"_A-a-action not recommended. Initiating retreat to unimatrix two-three-tw-"_

"We will stay and fight. We have the capability. You _will_ comply."

A pause – more than three seconds long – occurred before the Collective responded.

"_Complied. Continuing attack of USS Serenity._"

An almost manic smile lapped over the Queen's lips. Setbacks mattered not to her. She needed to win. She _had_ to win.

And she was _going_ to win.

* * *

"Gantu?" asked Pleakley incredulously. "How can it be possibly possible?"

"You know this – uh – person?" asked Ensign Grey. Jameston gave him a stern look, and then returned her gaze to the viewscreen.

"Uh – it's complicated," Gantu admitted somewhat sheepishly. "I'm not exactly sure I have it down myself. You see, Dr. Hamsterviel ordered me to follow you covertly – experiments and such, you know the drill – but when we had reached the wormhole, it was… uh, destaticising?"

"De_stabi_lising," came a voice, and out from behind the chair popped the mustard-yellow Experiment 625. "The chronovortex's spatial reference point was decaying; as such, the exit aperture was moving closer to the equivalent co-ordinate for the entrance aperture-"

"Which apparently means we popped out a lot closer to home than you did," interrupted Gantu. "We detected your ship's weapons signatures and how the other ship absorbed its blows, and how they were, quite frankly, shredding you guys to pieces. And so we contacted the Federation of this time period, but they felt our concerns to be… a little presumptuous. As such, _technically_ this is a scouting mission, but these two captains tell me they're quite formidable."

"_-didn't even get to the good part, might have well told me to go make a sandwich_," 625 could be heard muttering in the background.

"Alright, that's fair enough," said Jameston. "Jumba, Pleakley, I suppose you can vouch for these two?"

In the instant after she asked that, she saw them exchange worried glances. But they turned to her and, very hesitantly, nodded. Jameston was aware why they were worried – Gantu's reputation preceded him – but she figured that, when the worst came to the worst, not even he would leave anyone to something like the Borg.

"Well, at least that's settled," said Jameston, nodding and turning to the officer on the right of the splitscreen. "And Captain, who might you be?"

"Harry Kim, sir, USS _Rhode Island__,_" was the reply. "We've got the USS _Hood_ as well."

"Vi Jameston, USS _Serenity_," said Jameston. "Unfortunately, we have barely nothing - what's your weaponry like?"

"Oh, you're going to love this," said Kim, smiling. "Transphasic missiles, nine-hundred and seventy-eight megaton blast. Last we checked, it shredded a cube to _pieces_."

"Trans_phasic_?"

"It delivers a blast on multiple phase levels," Kim explained. "The shields can hold against the blast on a single phase, but not on them all. The specific phase modulation is randomised to prevent them from adapting as long as possible."

"But- that technology is only _theoretical!_" exclaimed Barmez. "There have been papers published, sure, but we're _years_ from even _considering_-"

"Let's just say a friend from the future helped us out," said Kim. "We're at your ready, Captain, unless you prefer to stand around-"

"O-of course not," said Jameston. "Although, we can't rely on them not having found a way around that – we should still strike where the leather is thinnest, so to speak."

Harry Kim nodded. "True, Captain Jameston."

"Alright," Jameston said. "Alpha positions, formation Beta-Delta-Two. We'll relay that to your library computer, Captain Gantu – it can understand Galactic Basic format, correct?"

"Correct, Captain, but there's no need to go to the trouble – we already set up a shared translation connection with the _Rhode Island_," said Gantu. "We'll receive the formations in a format my ship can recognise."

"Alright, then, Captain. You'll take position Alpha. The _Hood_ will take Beta, and _Rhode Island_ will take Gamma. Are all hands ready?"

"Yes, sir," came the reply from the _Rhode Island_.

"Alright. Ming, keep that evacuation order on standby, just in case we have to get out of here in a hurry."

"Aye, captain," said Ming, tapping a few controls as she did.

"Alright then, let's do this. Engage."

The two captains disappeared from the screen, and a new image appeared on it – a three-dimentional schematic of the battlefield, slanted at a forty-five degree angle and centered on the elliptic of the galaxy's center. Compared to the cube, the ships were tiny – as such, the computer had placed coloured translucent halos around each ship, to indicate its location.

"Captain Gantu, action manoeuvre one on my mark."

The Borg cube was seemingly not paying attention to the ships; indeed, it had been, for the last few minutes, attempting to sap the shields of the _Serenity_ dry with more bombardment, and while this was having some effect, the ship was still holding up to the brunt of the force.

"Shields at forty percent," reported Barmez as another vibration rolled through the ship.

"We're sitting ducks," muttered Jameston. "Why aren't they tractoring us again?"

"Captain," reported Ming, "the old-style ship has reached the appropriate zenith point."

"Alright, Captain Gantu, mark one!"

The dot with the red-coloured halo sparked out of view, and then sparked back, this time above the cube. A barrage of little red dots ejected from the spot, and impacted the thin line that represented the Borg cube's shield, bursting from existence as they dissolved against it.

The cube fired a barrage of pulse torpedoes, but the smaller ship was much smaller, and thus easier to manoeuvre, than the _Serenity_ ever could; it easily dodged each pulse and fired its own volley back.

"Alright, Ming, establish a shared connection with the other two Federation ships for their sensor logs, then run a detailed sensor sweep of EM distribution across the Cube. _Hood_ and _Rhode_, move into positions Beta- and Gamma-One, and run scans from your end."

"Aye, Captain" came the reply.

Another vibration rocked the vessel, reminding them that the cube hadn't forgotten them yet.

"Thirty-six percent," Barmez read from her console.

On-screen, a sky-blue halo (the _Rhode Island_) moved behind the cube, and an orange one (the _Hood_) swung below. The cube continued to fire on the red orb and the _Serenity_, still seemingly ignoring the other Federation ships.

"Estimated time to completion – one minute and forty-seven seconds," said Ming.

Co-ordinating the sensor sweeps would mean that each ship would have to cover less area than they would separately; not only that, but they would also get more information than otherwise. And concurrent scans meant that a process that alone would have taken over six minutes of their precious time now took considerably less.

Jameston paced nervously, every now and then glancing at their guests. What must be running through their minds?

And was there something disastrously wrong with the cube? For the last few hours, it had been responding much slower and with less force than she'd expected, given their reputation; even now, their attention appeared to be divided much more easily than she'd thought it would. They couldn't be afraid – it was against their very nature, and besides, their only opponents until now had been stranded in space – so was it something more systematic?

"Twenty-nine percent," came the reading as yet another jolt vibrated across the ship.

Waiting was the hardest part of any plan, but Jameston knew it was necessary. Too short, and they might miss something they could otherwise use.

The ship rumbled again, and the call "Twenty-two percent" rang through the air.

Finally, Ming looked up from her console. "Scans complete."

"On-screen," Jameston ordered.

A larger image of the cube flashed onto the screen, replacing the battlefield diagram; a second later, a heatmap was overlaid around it. The cube, and the heatmap with it, began to rotate slowly, giving the crew a three-dimentional view of the data.

"As you can see," said Ming, "most of this data comes from the cube's shielding, as our scans are unable to penetrate them there."

"Effectively giving us a diagram of the weakness of the shields," said Jameston.

"Right. But in some cases, shown by the inward red spikes, the shielding is so low that we were able to peek through it."

She tapped some keys, and thick yellow rectangle corners appeared around the spikes in the diagram.

"Some are too small for us to do anything with," she continued, and with a tap a good percentage of the rectangle highlights disappeared. "So, these are the best areas to attack."

"We could use some of those as a distraction," muttered Ensign Grey. "Like a mosquito – all we need to do is convince them long enough that we pose enough of a threat for them to stop and itch."

"And then we deliver the payload while they're trying to squash the insect," replied Jameston. "Which would be the best to fire the torpedoes at?"

"This one is in a direct line to the explosive charges we laid," replied Barmez, tapping a few keys at her own station; as she did, one of the spikes was highlighted by an orange rectangle. "That way, even if they have partially protected themselves against the transphasic torpedoes, we still might trigger a secondary explosion."

"Good work, Ming and Barmez," said Jameston. "Alright, address the other ships: new plans are incoming. Ming, modify the plan so the _Hood_, Mr. Gantu's ship and our own are situated above the closest spike to each. The _Rhode Island_ needs to be positioned above that orange spike, but only just outside torpedo range."

"Aye, captain," replied Ming.

Jameston looked once more towards the aliens. Pleakley seemed somewhat fascinated by the data, whereas Jumba had been scratching his chin thoughtfully.

"Mr Jookiba, your thoughts?"

Jumba started at the mention of his name, but quickly regained his composure. "Ah, I was just thinking – the Borg are being controlled by single Queen, who can override the collective, no?"

"That's what it looks like."

"What if she has becoming so driven to capture something that she is losing all reason?"

Jameston opened her mouth to speak, but before she could do so, Ensign Grey cut in.

"Surely the Borg would override her, though? Elect a new leader if they felt she wasn't doing her job properly?"

"Perhaps one cube alone isn't powerful enough to dethrone a Queen – they are quite far from the Delta Quadrant," said Jameston.

"Also, they have been using less power than before," said Jumba. "Perhaps they are finding it difficult to go against their nature – a constant distraction, so to speak."

"That's possible," replied Jameston."Well, if they're distracted, then that makes it all the easier for us to divide their attention. But I don't see what she'd want so badly."

"They were after Lilo before," said Pleakley. "Why they'd want _her_…"

Jameston frowned. "They have chosen a representative before to speak to humanity – Locutus of Borg. But they didn't seem _this_ concerned about him, if I recall my history books correctly. And what they'd want with such a young child-"

"Maybe they think cute will work where authority failed."

Jameston laughed. "I don't think the Borg have an appreciation of 'cute'. But seriously, I think it's something else."

"Captain!" Ming swivelled around in her chair. "_Hood_ and _Rhode Island_ confirming orders received and understood."

"Acknowledged. Ming, switch the battle plan back on, and Malo, take us to position epsilon. _Hood, _you're headed for position delta, _Rhode_ to eta, Gantu to zeta. On my mark."

The Borg vessal vanished from the screen, replaced by the diagram of the battlefield.

"Mark two."

A low humming filled the air, and on the screen the brightly-haloed ships moved to position. The Borg ship was still focusing on Gantu's ship, in between quaking blasts at _Serenity_.

Once each ship had reached its designated spot, Jameston raised her hand.

"All ships, prepare full phaser and torpedo spread."

A few moments passed before the reply came.

"All ships reporting ready, Captain," Ming reported.

With a flick of the wrist, Jameston gave the order. "_Hood_, engage!"

The orange-haloed ship began spewing a multitude of orange dots and lines, all splaterring against the shield. The cube responded with a volley of shots, which similarily failed to connect.

"Gantu, engage!"

Gantu's ship fired its plasma weapons, which met a similar fate,

"Right, Ming, it's our turn; _Hood_, with us. Engage!"

Ming's hands frantically flew across the control panel; on-screen, the purple dot that represented the _Serenity _hurled torpedo and phaser fire. The Borg ship was attempting to engage them, and normally this would be no problem for the cube, but it was clear that the situation they were under wasn't normal, and the ship's attention was increasingly divided.

"The _Hood_ has made contact," Ming said, still engaged with her console – and sure enough, the yellow torpedoes had broken through the shield, and now both they and phaser from the _Hood_ were impacting the Borg ship's hull.

And then, a curious thing happened; the cube ceased its spread out attack, and focused all its weapons on all but the _Hood_.

"Ming, Borg cube on-screen, _Rhode Island_, now!" shouted Jameston!

At almost the exact same time, the captain of the _Hood_ barked _"Shields to maximum!_"

The spectacle was breathtaking. Shimmering white torpedoes soared through space, interstellar eagles seeking their prey; as they touched the shield, they each burst into five or six separate lights which then rained down upon the surface of the cube, leaving humongous plumes in their wake.

And then, a great blast engulphed the cube. Orange clouds roard and burst and rippled before them. Just ahead of them, debris shimmered blue as it burned up against the shields.

As the smoke cleared, it became obvious that the detonators had done the trick. Great swarths of the cube were gone, and the ship now resembled what would happen if you took to one of those old, bulky computer screens with a sledgehammer.

"Ninety-two percent of the cube inoperable or destroyed," reported Ming.

But Jameston's thoughts were elsewhere.

"Ming, hail the _Hood_."

"Hailing systems open," she replied.

The Hood was now visible, and it appeared to be badly damaged from the attack. The saucer was scoured and scorched, a chunk taken out of the fore of the saucer; the warp pilons were venting bright-blue plasma.

"_Hood_, do you read me? Over."

Unsettling silence filled the air for a few brief moments.

But then, static burst through the channel, and a voice emerged.

"…_reporting casulties and widespread injury, but we're still in one piece, thank God._"

Jameston wiped her brow. At least most of them had made it.

* * *

They were all gone now, the voices in her head. All she could hear were the moans of agony which echoed from those drones who had been spared from the grip of the explosion, only to die slowly and painfully in the cube, all alone.

But one by one, even they disappeared.

The Queen's sanctum had collapsed in the explosion. As for the Queen herself, her legs had been crushed under a falling bulkhead, and now she lay in agony, in a space no bigger than a metre square, waiting for the end.

No, it wasn't the pain that agonised her. It was the feeling of helplessness, of being alone. Even as a child, she'd had her own collective to help her, to back her up, to make her more than she was. And now, here she was, broken, shattered, with nothing but her thoughts.

She shifted about, triying to make herself as comfortable as possible; it was then that her arm brushed against something soft.

It was the penguin plush she'd found earlier Memories of the toy, of her friends, for whom she'd given her freedom to save, flodded back to her, and for the first time in twenty years, she cried.

She didn't know how long it took her to stop – it had felt like an eternity – but it came to pass that she was struck by a thought. Fighting back her tears, she tapped a control column that was laying beside her, and to her surprise, it sprung to life.

Sowing up her courage, she bit her lip and began to type. After all she'd done, after all they had forced her to do – if this was going to be her last few moments, she wanted to make them worth something.

* * *

"So, what do we do now?" asked Jameston.

"No signs of activity on the ship," Ming reported.

"The Borg usually detonate the ship if it becomes inoperable," Grey said. "But we've never come across one _this_ badly damaged. Perhaps there's simply no-one left – or the Borg are simply too damaged psychologically to continue."

Jameston nodded. "We'll search the ship for survivors. Mr. Kim, my records tell me you have hands-on experience with the Borg?"

"As hands-on as it gets, ma'am," replied Kim over the comm..

"You should lead a resue mission to retrieve any survivors. See if they can be rehabilitated."

"Will do," said Kim. "We'll request a specialist to help with the procedures."

Jumba and Pleakley exchanged knowing glances while Jameston simply nodded.

"Alright. We'll leave with the towships, and if you need us we'll be-"

It happened in seconds. With an almighty blast. the Borg ship disintergrated in a ball of fire and smoke.

Everyone just stood there for a moment, none not quite knowing what to say.

Then, a series of green lines appeared in mid air, just in front of the captain. When they disappated, a small penguin plush dropped to the floor.

"It could be a bomb," warned Grey, but Jameston ignored him, knelt down, and picked the plush up.

"I'm receiving a message," said Ming. "It says… oh _my._"

"What is it?"

"It says, '_I'm sorry. Mir._'"

Grey raised his eyebrow. "Does that mean anything to you, sir?"

Jameston looked into the eyes of the plush, and she remembered the friend that didn't make it out of the Borg cube, all those years ago.

"_Finally, you're at peace, Mir_," she murmured.

And she hugged the plush as hard as she could, and clamped her eyes shut. And she could almost feel her friend hugging back.

When she stood back up again, she struggled to keep back the tears. She had to be strong, for her crew.

"A-address the crew," she told Ming.

Ming pressed a few keys and nodded.

"Al-alright crew, the battle i-is over. W-we've got to w-wait for the t-tow ships to arrive. Ceremonies a-at oh-five-hundred. End transmission."

And as the bridge crew silently watched her captain, Jameston mulled over her own thoughts, and reflected that, for all the loss of her crew, her _family_ for the past four years, the _Kobiyashi Maru_ scenario might have been the better outcome.

* * *

"We are here to pay respects to our fallen dead, and to those long ago snatched by the Borg whose souls may finally be at rest," Jameston said to the assembled crowd as before her, four torpedoes, filled with the ashes of the crewmembers who had not made it through this adventure with them, and each draped with the flag of the Federation, were lowered into the bays. "They lived in the moment, and died in battle. Many of them we knew and loved; some family, some f-friends, but every one hearts will live on in each of us, as their far too brief time among us has touched us all, and their soul will soar across the cosmos f-forever."

Wiping a tear from her eye, Jameston looked out to the crowd. Most of the crewmembers before remained stoic through the eulogy, no doubt attempting to emulate the bravery their friends faced in their last moments. Jameston wished she could be as steady - she was quite aware of the quavering and stutters punctuating her speech - but when she considered the people she never knew, and saw the faces of those she did swim into her thoughts, she could not help herself.

There were others who could not hide their emotion as well. Some cried into handkerchiefs or into the shoulders of loved ones; some quivered their lip constantly and had to wipe their eyes every now and then. Jumba stood at the back, his head bowed; on the other hand, tears waterfalled from Pleakley's eyes, completely drenching a napkin, though he made nary a sound.

At this point, Ming and Malo stepped forward to blow their two-tone Boatswain's whistles, and then returned to the line alongside one of the tubes.

Jameston summed her courage to deliver what would be the final word - they at least deserved as much.

"We now commit them to space, to the freedom they fought valiantly to protect. Godspeed."

And with those final words, the torpedoes began to roll down the bays, filing into their respective chutes. After they were in place, the doors were closed by a crewmember, and a volley of thuds indicated that the torpedoes had been fired into the nether, where their occupants would sleep forever more.


	63. Lilo's Decision

******Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
Chapter ****63: Lilo's Decision**

"So, then, we're finally going home," said 426 slowly as he stumbled along one of _Dakana_'s hallways upon his crutches.

"Yes, home," replied 419.

The ship had been restored to full working order at the Utopia Planitia shipyards orbiting Mars, by a team led by Jumba and using Jameston's keen sense as a historian to make sure they didn't accidentally take back any future technology. Now it ran as smooth as ever, which is to say every now and then a deep groaning sound could be heard from the depths of the ship, and odd clanking noises echoed through every now and then.

Everyone had said their goodbyes, exchanged hugs, handshakes and pats on the back (Jameston had hugged Lilo for an unusually long period of time, earning her odd looks from both Ensign Grey and Jumba), and been transported back to their respective ships. Jumba had then promptly set a course for the wormhole that had brought them here, now firmly planted in the Alpha Quadrant, and therefore, back to their own time.

419 glanced at 426, trying to gauge his expression. He had a rather solemn look on his face, but he was scratching his chin, as if he was mulling something over.

"It's been a month since we left," he said suddenly. "Who knows how much things have changed?"

419 laughed. "Silly, we're using the space anomaly to return. Only a few hours will have passed – a day, tops. Everything will be the same."

426 paused for a moment. "We won't."

419 nodded. She knew it wouldn't be easy. They could repair the ship all they wanted. Even the physical injuries would heal with time. But the Little Girl and 626-

She couldn't imagine how it must feel, to have your personality ripped apart. Every time she tried to, a cold chill ran down her spine, and she got the feeling she was only grasping at glimpses of the horror it must be. It was like imagining the emptiness that occurs after life – like trying to imagine how it feels to feel nothing.

It was some time before the pair reached the door for astrometrics – the same door that she had been flung into weeks before, beyond which lay the same room in which she had seen her first sight of a Borg drone. The same room in which, in a time that now seemed like an age away, they had been laughing and joking about the 'mission' Jumba had planned ahead, one that they'd been sure would have been a routine asteroid mining excursion.

An age away, when monsters and demons hadn't scarred them all…

"I-I'll think I'll… go and review the security footage," 419 muttered, gesturing towards the astrometrics lab door. Anything to keep her mind away from the considerings of the could-bes and could-have-beens.

"Alright," replied 426. "I'll see how Little Girl and 626 are holding up."

"Good idea, 426," replied 419 as she opened the door. "Good idea."

* * *

The Little Girl, as it turned out, was waiting in front of a malfunctioning lift door. Every few seconds she'd press the button, and the door would slide ajar slightly, and then fall back into place. Every time that happened, the girl would robotically press the button again - no frustration, and no attempt to try a different route. Just pressing the button, and watching the door fail.

After standing beside her watching this take place for nearly a minute, 426 finally screwed up his courage and spoke

"Uh, a-allow me," said 426, and, awkwardly leaning on one of his crutches, he pulled the door open with his strong arm.

"Thank you," Little Girl murmured, almost too soft to hear, as she stepped inside. 426 followed.

"S-so," stammered 426 as the doors closed and the lift began to move up. "H-how are you, and h-how are th-things?"

When the Little Girl did not answer, and instead looked away, a thousand things began to run through his mind. _Oh, crud, I've said the wrong thing. What if I've offended her? Maybe it's the way I'm standing-_

He decided to take a different tact. "So, we won, eh? Smooth sailings from here on out, right?"

Immediately after those words slipped out of his mouth, he wished he could gobble them back. If at all possible, the Little Girl now looked even more dejected, and was now staring intently at her feet.

A few awkward moments passed before the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Lilo motioned to sidle out into the bridge beyond.

"Wait!"

Little Girl paused, and looked back at 426.

He sighed, and tried one last time. "I really admire you. You're… you're so incredibly brave, it's… it's unbelievable. I wish I was like you."

426 thought he saw a flicker of a smile as the Little Girl turned back towards the bridge and exited the lift. And as the doors closed, he let out a sigh of relief.

At least he'd been able to make her day a little brighter.

* * *

About an hour had past, and 426 had been sitting on a box in some odd room or another, reading a book. It had been one he'd always intended to read but never quite got around to it. Finally, with some time ahead of him and all this behind, especially after having been faced with near death, he had decided he might as well get it done,

He was around a quarter-way through his book when the doors slid open, and in walked 419.

"Hiya!" said 426 nonchalantly, not taking his eyes off his book.

But 419 didn't return the salutation.

"Uh, 419? I said- _gah!_"

He had looked up from the pages, and what he saw startled him – 419's eyebrows were slanted, her forehead furled, and her mouth forming a very angry frown. 426 had never seen her angry – frustrated, yes, but angry?

"How _dare_ you!" she shouted, inching closer towards him. "How could you say such a thing?"

426 stumbled backwards in his rush to get behind the box. "What? What did I say?"

"After you kidnapped the ship! I saw it on the security tapes! You know exactly what you said!"

426 would have slanted his eyebrow had he not been scrambling backwards from 419's advancing anger - well, at least, as fast as he could while trying to balance on one leg . "Okay, uh, for the sake of argument, let's say I, um, forgot."

"_Urrgh!_" she groaned, frustratedly throwing her arms in the air. "Right after Pleakley's flu comment! You said, '_Kila wa nai_!' How could you?"

426 was now pressed against the window.

"Wait, you mean..."

A panicked look formed on his face, and he shook his head and waved his arms. "_Sh! Shh! She'll hear you!_" he whispered, hurriedly glancing back at the starfield beyond, almost as if he was sure there was someone else there listening.

419 put her hands on her hips. "What on Earth are you'll babbling about?" She then shook her head. "Never mind that, you _know_ how much I like Hawaiian legend!"

"…and then she'll- wait, _what_?"

"You know quite plainly '_what_'. You said that Kila, third son of King Mo'ikiha of Kaua'i, _doesn't exist!_"

"I- uh- wha?"

"You know, I've told you about him before! '_Kila of the Uplands, Kila of the Lowlands, Kila-pa-Wahineikamalanai!'_ Ring a bell?"

It had now become clear that what 426 had meant and what 419 thought he meant were two very different things, 426 mopped his brow and relaxed his shoulders,

"And in fact, as I've discussed with you before, there is multiple documentary evidence to his exist-"

"You're perfectly right, my bad, slip of the tongue, and for that I'm very sorry!" he said very quickly, still glancing at the window.

"Actually," he continued, suddenly remembering one of those long rants 419 was prone to having, "I was making an analogy – 'kila' means 'a high place', and, uh… Pleakley was referring to a very low time in Jumba's life. Thus, 'a high', that is, dignified, 'place doesn't exist' for Jumba."

"I, uh…"

419 scratched her chin for about a minute, and 426 could see the gears whirring in her head, attempting to make sense of his explanation.

"Well then," she finally said, "you mangled _two_ languages to get to that phrasing. Although, considering your… _experience_ with Tantalog, I guess that's only logical."

"What's wrong with my Tantalog?"

"Uh, nothing, nothing!" She sighed. "Alright, whatchya doing?"

"Reading," said 426, pointing to the upturned book.

"You, _reading_?"

"Oh, shush." He picked the book up. "It's just… well, with everything that's happened, I wanted to get this one read. I've been putting it off for so long, and… well, no-one lives forever, right?"

"Right." She frowned. "But it seems such a shame – all those things I'll never see."

"Yeah." 426 nodded slowly. "But perhaps it's for the best, you know? Perhaps it's so people don't get too cynical."

"Oh, I don't think I could ever get _that_ cynical," 419 said. "The universe is full of such wonder that I can't help but think that everyone, deep down, has a little bit of an optimist inside them."

* * *

Grey clouds hovered over the skies of Kauai, shrouding the skies as if they were omens in a crystal ball, of futures yet to come. Thunder cackled and lightning glistened on the horizon. And, to the obvious annoyance of Jumba, a rather heavy rain had begun to fall, sending streams of blurry water pulsing across the ship's windows

"Chuuta," he growled as he alternated between peering through rain-swept glass and consulting his instruments. "Why did weather systems choose today to be giving us rainstorm?"

Lilo shrugged half-heartedly. She didn't care about the rain. To be honest, she didn't care much about anything anymore.

Pleakley attempted to squint through the mess.

"Something's not right," he murmured.

"What are you meaning?"

"I'm not sure – I can't quite put my tongues on it," Pleakley replied.

On any other day, Lilo would have laughed at Pleakley's mondegreen. But not today.

She had done it. She had killed people.

No, it was worse. She had _enslaved_ people – innocent people. people who had lives and voices. Voices and lives that she had shut down.

And, she had realised, those people were now scattered in millions of pieces across the depths of space. And it was all because of her.

And no matter how many times she tried to tell herself differently, that it was all the Borg's doing, she couldn't escape the sick, demented, alien _joy_ she had felt, or the voice that was her own harshly setting the facts straight. It was her, it had all been _her_…

"Well," continued Jumba, seemingly uncaring of her internal plight, "according to sensors, there are being no technologies alien to Earth in the vicinity, so if there is an ambush, they are being _very_ good at cloaking."

"That's not what I mean" said Pleakley. "There's something _very_ off, y'know, about… well, _everything_."

"We were being in future," Jumba replied. "Cannot affect anything in present, you know-"

"I know _that_. I don't _mean_ that."

Heh. Time travel. She'd given everything, once, to undo her life, to have her parents back. And now, she wished it again, never more strongly than now – whatever the laws of time might say.

She would rip them apart if she had to, to see them even once more.

If she had them back, none of this would have happened. Mertle wouldn't be cruel and sadistic. Her family would not be battered and bruised. Those people she had, for all intents and purposes, _murdered_, would still have lives, have dreams, have desires and hopes.

But would she have met Stitch?

"Er- uh, Jumba, I think - that is, if I'm right-"

Pleakley's stammers pulled her from her thoughts. She was probably better for it; better to think about something else. _Anything else_. She needed to keep her mind busy, least it fall on the subject again.

"-I mean. there's certainly a possibility that I'm not, but… was it raining when we left?"

Jumba seemed to think about this for a moment before replying

"_Is_ possible our path through the chronovortex caused us to be coming out a few days before or after original fissure," he muttered. "Should be checking, just in case we are needing to lay low for a few days – or needing alibi for why we are to have been missing."

He quickly tapped out a few commands on his console, and the computer beeped its acceptance.

"Just running x-ray signal survey of sky to determine stellar positions," he exposited unnecessarily. "From simulations, I can be determining current da-."

A beeping sound sounded; with an "Ah!", Jumba glanced at the screen.

What he saw there caused his eyes to widen incredulously.

"What is it?" asked Pleakley, a hint of worry in his voice.

"Pleakley, take a look at this. Keep your voice low," he instructed, glancing at Lilo as he did.

Lilo watched as they muttered between each other, Pleakley looking increasingly more concerned as they did. Although she couldn't hear what they were saying, they didn't need to – she was pretty sure she knew what it was.

First, it was definitely about her – the way Jumba kept looking to her, almost as a reflex, made that much clear. And second, there was only one date that she knew of that made people act like _that_.

"It's… it's my parents, isn't it," she said. It wasn't a question.

Jumba and Pleakley both look taken aback at this prompt.

"W-well, you see, it is being the same _day_," stuttered Jumba. "Am remembering from last... well, you are seeing, I wasn't being sure of _year_-"

Lilo slipped off of the chair she was sitting on and walked over to the console.

"That's the year," she confirmed, looking away.

"Oh!" exclaimed Pleakley, and crouching down, he drew Lilo into a tight hug. It didn't make her feel any better.

Jumba, on the other hand, stood aside, a rather awkward look on his face.

"U-uh- w-we must have been p-placed off course by cross-path chronov-vortex," he said, probably attempting to regain some sense of scientific normality to this emotional uncertainty that lay before him. "Should be s-simple to reroute back to original stream-"

"I want to see them," she interrupted abruptly.

She began to feel a buzzing sensation well up inside her, and spread throughout her body. Here was her chance to make it right, her one chance to save them-

"Really, _truly_ sorry, Little Girl," said Jumba, "but cannot be doing that. Risk of damage to timeline _far_ too-"

"I'm not going to _do_ anything," she lied. "I _just_ want to see them."

Jumba sighed. "Fine, but _just_ for few seconds."

A plan had begun to form in her head, one of how she could fix everything. But first, she needed to prepare.

"I'm going to think about some things," she announced. "Tell me when you're ready."

She closed the door to the bridge behind her, and looked for a closet. If she recalled correctly-

Ah, _here_ it was. With a palm-press, the door slid open; she grabbed an object that looked like a backpack and closed it again.

She then chose a corner visible from the door, sat down, and tried to think of waterfalls and flowers.

She was drawn from her quiet musings from the sound of the door clanking open.

"Alright, they're… well, they're visible," Pleakley said. Lilo nodded, got up, and walked through the door with him.

The holographic screen was active, and upon it was the image of a small blue car on a rain-lashed cliffside road. And there in the back seat of the car, clearly discernable, was a little girl in a small red dress.

"_Do you think she can see us_?" whispered Pleakley, and it was not hard to see why – the girl seemed to be looking straight at them.

"_Is impossible, visibility at this distance from the cliff is practically nil,_" replied Jumba – but the somewhat concerned look on his face remained.

He pressed a few buttons, and the ship seemed to speed up slightly; now, the front of the car was visible, and in it sat a spiky-haired American man, driving and humming along to unheard music, and a Hawaiian with long, curly brown hair, staring out the window.

Lilo nodded, and then, suddenly, ran to the door.

"Lilo, _what are you doing?_" Jumba yelled.

"I'm going to get her," she replied, pointing at the ripcords on the backpack on her back, tears choking her voice. "I'm going to get her before she gets my parents."

"You- I- _what?_"

"I don't care if you're not going to stop her, but I _am_," she continued.

"The effects on the timestream could be being _catastrophic_," Jumba exclaimed. "I understand how painful it is-"

"No you _don't!_" she yelled, and began to twist the handle.

"But you could tear time and space seam from _seam_! Or failing that-"

"We might never meet," said Pleakley, eyelid wavering.

"But-"

She looked from Jumba to Pleakley, and then to Stitch.

And then she clamped her eyes shut.

"No, I don't _care!_"

She willed herself to open the door.

But she just couldn't do it.

"I've _got_ to do it!"

Her hand didn't move at all – but this time, it wasn't an outside force blocking her movement. It was herself.

A shuffling noise entered her ear, and she opened her eyes – Stitch had slid from his seat, and was now walking up to her.

"No, Stitch, I _have_ to-"

But, quite unexpectantly, Stitch embraced her in quite the biggest hug he had ever given her.

"You… can… go," he stuttered in his broken English. "But I'll… remember you. I remember… everyone… who leaves."

_He heard me?_

Tears filled her eyes, and a welling feeling of emotion spilled into her stomach, flooding away the buzzing completely. She let go of the handle, and placed her hand on his back.

"_Don't leave me, okay?_" she whispered.

"_Okay,"_ Stitch murmured in reply.

And once they let go, Lilo stared at the screen, taking in every detail, getting the opportunity that had been robbed from her the first time – the memory of their faces in the time she knew would be the last time she would see them again.

She turned away, closing her eyes as she did.

"Jumba… let's go home," she said, her voice filled with bitterness.

Not looking her in the eye, Jumba nodded, tapped out a few commands, and piloted the ship back towards the wormhole.


	64. Temporal Investigations

******Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek  
Chapter** 64: Temporal Investigations

In the three days since the incident, Nani hadn't let Lilo out of her sight.

Not that the little girl had showed any interest in caring. Whenever Jumba had seen her – in the lounge, or in her room, or on the beach, or at the cliffside – she'd been just sitting on the floor, her head in her hands, just staring into space.

Nan, on the other hand, appeared to have gone too far in the other direction. Since their fateful trip, she'd been treating Lilo like a porcelain queen. In the mornings, it was coconut cake for breakfast. She'd fuss over every scratch and bruise. And not only that, but anything Lilo wanted, Nani would give her – the problem being that, considering the state Lilo was in, she had to resort to naming things she knew Lilo liked, with which she responded with an apathetic 'whatever'.

Stitch seemed to be somewhere in between. He'd been silent since the event, but followed Lilo with a determined look on his face, as if to be sure he could protect her. His was the more reasonable and rational reaction, Jumba felt – that it was his own creation, built to destroy, surprised him a little, but he supposed he'd assimilated a little bit of character from everyone in the family, and thus strived for a median in his views.

And as for the other experiments, Jumba had confined them to his ship for the time being – better they not have to deal with drama that had very little to do with them.

For their part in the escapades, Jumba and Pleakley had been given an ultimatum: five days to move out or else very bad things would happen. Just what those things might be were left to their imagination, but Jumba had decided he didn't want to find out, and Pleakley didn't seem eager to either, judging by the speed at which he had packed that night.

Jumba had already packed most of his day-to-day belongings, and had finished dismantling the tunnel to his laboratory the day before – the last thing he needed was for Nani to find out about it after-the-fact.

Now, on this particular day, the sun was shining rather weakly through the window, and a slightly cool breeze puffed against Jumba's cheek – a reminder of the oncoming winter. Jumba had been pondering the thought of adopting a home that was close enough that he could just tunnel through to his laboratory, even earmarking houses in a real estate magazine.

_Knock knock knock._

No, it was too risky. He'd have to transfer the information remotely to his new place, and rebuild there. Maybe even enable the self-destruct on this one – if it came to that.

"_Coming!_" called Pleakley from some far off part of the house.

Then again, the lab was separated from the house by five meters of cement., and another ten of dirt The likelihood of _anyone_ finding it was astronomically tiny-

"Hey, Jumba! These guys want to see _you_!"

Urgh, just what he needed. More distractions.

Jumba lumbered down to the door.

The two men that greeted his sight as he came in view of the doorway were peculiar only in their normality. The man on the left had dark brown hair with a fringe that threatened to cover his eyebrows, slicked up in some kind of hair gel to maintain a professional look. The man on the right had ginger hair atop a high forehead ridged with worry lines, his large ears sticking over the scraggly follicles near the middle of his head. Both men were Caucasian, and both wore matching suits and ties.

"Hello, Jumba Jookiba," the ginger-haired one greeted.

"I'm Dulmer," said the brown-headed man.

"And I'm Lucsly," continued the other.

"We're from the Department of Temporal Investigations," they said together.

"Oh." Jumba hadn't heard of this organisation before, but then again he hadn't heard of a lot of things. "I suppose you are being here about our little trip to the future."

"That happened _three days ago_," noted Pleakley in a rather unimpressed voice. "Not very timely, are we?"

Dulmer stared at him for a second.

"Was that a joke?"

"What-n_o-of-course-not!_" Pleakley stammered quickly.

"Good," said Lucsly. "We hate those."

"The United States takes temporal incurrences and interferences very seriously," said Dulmer rather monotonously. "As such, our job is to investigate temporal incidents to make sure that the course of history – both past and future – remains constant. It's a job we _do not_ take lightly."

"Even if we were inclined to," continued Lucsly, "our superiors wouldn't allow it. Not after the _Philadelphia_ experiment, at least."

"Or the _Borealis_ incident, for that matter."

"That one was a doozy of a mess to clean up."

Dulmer nodded. "Lots of paperwork."

"Now anyway," said Lucsly, "do you have anywhere where we can sit and talk?"

"Specifically, we'd need to note down the events that conspired," said Dulmer, "and we prefer not to do it standing up."

"Of course," replied Pleakley. "This way."

He led the two to the kitchen, and, once there, pulled out two chairs for them,

"Thanks," said Dulmer, once everyone had taken a seat. "Now, let's hear it, from the beginning."

"That is, unless it's a predestination paradox," added Lucsly.

"We hate those too," said Dulmer.

"Jumba, you don't think it was-"

"As far as I am knowing, it is not," said Jumba. "But there _are_ parts of story I am not knowing, so-"

"You didn't debrief your crew?" asked Dulmer.

"Er… I did, but you see, two of, uh, 'my crew' are undergoing some… how you say, psychological issues right now, and they refuse to be talking about it – or talking to me altogether, for that matter." He sighed. "Not that I am blaming them…"

"Very well," said Lucsly. "Tell us what you _can_, then."

* * *

The two government men listened patiently as Jumba and Pleakley took turns filling them in on the details that they knew about. Dulmer and Lucsly nodded along, only speaking to ask questions, and only moving to tap out a few notes into their phones.

When they had finished, the two exchanged glances and shook their heads.

"What is it? We are not going to… _prison_, are we?"

Jumba shuddered at the thought. To him, even exile was better than prison.

"No, Mr. Jookiba," answered Dulmer. "But… well, we try to avoid doing this at all costs, but to protect the integrity of past and future spacetime events, I'm afraid we have no choice."

"You aren't going to _kill_ us-"

"Of _course_ not, Mr. Pleakley," interrupted Lucsly. "Who do you think we are, the CIA?"

"Besides," continued Dulmer, "the events of the year 2374 have not been significantly altered by your presence-"

"We _blew up a Borg ship!_" exclaimed Jumba, standing up from the table. Pleakley looked at him as if he was insane – after all, weren't they trying to _not_ get killed?

Dulmer glared at Jumba, and he shrank back into his seat.

"As I was _saying_, our simulations show that your actions, while undoubtedly effective, had no bearing on the destruction of the Borg vessel – they would have been replicated by someone else, for instance, Jean-Luc Picard, a man with intricate knowledge of the Borg. Going back in time to kill you prior to these events, even if we could possibly do that, and even if it wasn't completely illegal, would, essentially, be a waste of resources."

Nodding, Lucsly drew from his pocket a long metallic tube with what appeared to be a lens on one end and a flash on the other.

"A… _camera_?" asked Pleakley.

Lucsly ignored him.

"How long would you estimate you were chasing after 628?" he asked, sliding a dial at the back. "With return time, if possible."

"It'd… be in my ship's logs," replied Jumba slowly, eyeing the device suspiciously.

"Oh, don't worry, we won't use this on you two," said Lucsly.

"Our assessment of the facts," said Dulmer, "is that while the _far_ future is not in jeopardy, the current condition of the three most affected people – that would be the two Pelekais and your experiment, number six-two-six – would alter the timeline significantly enough that we can't allow them to continue as they are."

Pleakley grasped his lower lip in shock.

"You're not going to kill _them_, are y-"

Dulmer put his hand to his forehead and shook his head.

"What my partner means," said Lucsly, "is that we're going to erase their memories of what happened. Nothing technical, no head-slicing – all they need is to see this go flash, and it would be as if it never happened."

Jumba glared at them. This seemed like a _bad_ idea.

"Trust us, it would be better this way," Lucsly continued. "For both them _and_ you. You told us earlier about how Ms. Pelekai smothers her younger sister, and how she herself seems emotionally detached from the world, right? And, of course, you would still have a home here on Earth."

"Besides," said Dulmer, "the moment you leave this house for good, you leave the protective custody of the Galactic Federation. While you won't be arrested, and the Council would no doubt be restrained by the Grand Councilwoman, there are plenty of bounty hunters out there that have no such legal restraints."

Jumba and Pleakley exchanged nervous glances.

"So, what would be a good time for them to, well, 'wake up'?" asked Dulmer, as if they'd already agreed.

Jumba looked from Dulmer to Pleakley, and back again. And he he sighed.

"Go get the logs, Pleakley."

"But- you can't _seriously_ be-"

_"Go get the logs, Pleakley."_

"Fine!" He folded his arms, turned around, and left for the ship.

Jumba waited for the slam of the front door before turning back to the two government men.

"This is painless, no?"

"Absolutely painless," said Lucsly.

"They might feel a tingling sensation when they awake, though," said Dulmer.

"And it erases _only_ specific memories?"

"Set how long you want to erase, and only those memories will be gone," said Lucsly.

"We have had some cases where it erased _slightly more_ than we intended," said Dulmer.

"But never more than a few minutes," said Lucsly.

"There's no… _ethical_ ramifications?"

"Oh, we know full well about the ethics," said Dulmer.

"We're altering people's memories. _Of course_ there are ramifications," said Lucsly. "But we think – and the Department thinks – the rights that we are doing far outweigh the wrongs that could _possibly_ be done."

"Preventing mass hysteria," said Dulmer.

"Saving lives," said Lucsly.

"Stopping wars," said Dulmer.

"That kind of thing," said Lucsly.

"_Wars?_"

"There was one man who went back in time to convince a Russian general to launch a nuclear attack on the United States," said Lucsly.

"All the Department had to do was wipe their memories," said Dulmer.

"It was like he never thought of the idea," said Lucsly.

"And as if the general never heard it," added Dulmer unnecessarily.

"But anyway, we believe the risk of harm to the timeline is worth the ramifications."

Dulmer nodded. "When we say that, it's usually rather serious."

"World-changing serious-"

"Alright, I am getting point!"

Jumba stood up from the table, looked at Lucsly, and sighed.

"So, uh… how are we going to be doing this?"

"Once Mr. Pleakley returns with the data, you will gather the family together," said Dulmer. "We'll take care of the rest."

* * *

Thinking.

It was all Lilo could do these days. Thinking stopped the buzzing feeling in her brain. Thinking stopped her emotions from overwhelming her.

Thinking stopped her from remembering what she had done.

Sometimes she thought about rationalisations, about justifying herself – but that was all they were, justifications. It would have mattered little to the people she assimilated, to the people she'd _destroyed_, whether there was a reason to the madness. Even if they were freed from their slavery, they'd still look at her face with the same degree of hatred they had then, with the looks reserved for murderers, dictators, and the scum of the Earth. She could see them when she slept – one nightmare replaced with another – and she wondered if she'd be able to take it in the long term.

She shook her head and tried to think of more positive things.

It was some time before Nani's echoing voice roused her from her ponderings. And so, with heavy heart and what felt like the weight of the world on her shoulders, she dragged herself onto the lift, waited for it to settle at the bottom, stumbled down the hallway and into the lounge.

"Honey," said Nani as Lilo entered the room, gesturing at a pair of unfamiliar men, both wearing the same black suit. "These are some men from… uh,,,"

She glanced towards Jumba.

"Temporal Investigations," said the one with the red hair.

"I'm Dulmer and he's Luscly," the brown-haired man named Dulmer continued.

"We've been taking statements about the… incident," said Lucsly.

"I don't want to talk about it," muttered Lilo.

"That's fine," said Lucsly. "We just need one thing."

"A photograph, to be precise."

Nani raised her eyebrow. "A… _photograph_?"

"Of all of you."

"For the file, of course."

"We don't like it much either…"

"But it's department policy."

"Our heads would probably fire us on the spot."

"_A bit too dramatic_," Dulmer muttered.

Lucsly glared at his partner, and then sighed. "Er… well, it wouldn't reflect well on us, at the very least."

"So… uh, where do you wanna take the photo?" asked Nani.

"In front of the couch is as good a place as any," said Dulmer.

Lucsly nodded. "It's not like we're trying to make artwork here."

It took two minutes to arrange them all in front of the couch – a record, as Stitch would normally be too rambunctious to stand still for a photograph. Now, though…

"All right, then-"

"_Oy, Jumba, Pleakley, don't be rude – take those sunglasses off!_" whispered Nani. Lilo looked up at them and noticed they were indeed wearing shades (although Pleakley's single monocle was held on by a strap, due to his lack of ears.)

"Actually, we've requested they wear them," said Dulmer.

"Their eyes are… _sensitive_ to the kind of flash we'll be using," said Lucsly.

"The humans and 626 should be fine, though," Dulmer hastily added when Nani raised her eyebrow.

"Manufacturer defect, been meaning to send it in," said Lucsly.

Dulmer knelt down and held out a small tubule. Lilo had the strange feeling she'd seen it before - in a movie or something.

"That's a _camera_?" asked Nani.

"Special classification," said Dulmer.

"Our technology's a _bit_ more advanced than what's available to the public," said Lucsly.

"Alright then, please look directly into the camera."

"Smile!"

Nobody smiled.

"_Really, Lucsly? After what they've been through?_"

"_I just wanted to make it realistic._"

Dulmer shrugged, and held his finger ready over the button.

It was at that moment, staring at the distinctive shape of the device, that Lilo recognised the device.

"Hey, isn't that the dene-"

But before she could finish, Dulmer pressed the shutter.

And Lilo, and the entire world around her, was lost in a blinding flash of white.


End file.
